I bequeath myself to the dirt
to grow from the grass I love.
If you want me again,
look for me under your boot soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
but I shall be good help to you nevertheless,
and filter and fiber your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first,
Missing me one place search another.
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
—Page 83, Fahrenheit (2018).
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