Porcelain babies, all of us
What do we know of the light as it shines through us?
Opaque to ourselves, we are not even filters, not even prisms bending light.
No dimness of soul or mind will throw a shadow.
We are not the chosen; special, specifically
- except as we are here on this well-lit orb,
all soaking in the rays,
quietly glowing together.
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