I think the true history of human beings
Can only be found in small circles of friends
Who weave together their dreams
In pictures and music and talk
Women and men crouched together
Around a shared sense of their
Particular moment in time
Who reach out to warm their hands
Around the central fire of life
They can see it burning there
An incision in the surrounding dark
While the rest of us unconscious
As children only catch up
Centuries later if at all
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