The story of re-
birth
is a crepe paper blossom un-
folding
silence
into
words
Peace rests
in the
center
specked with light
that travels
on the wind of truth
Hear me weep a thunder-
storm. I rain
down
voice
in flashes to break
open
this brittle shell that remembers
night and the harvest
of shadows
Love this.
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Thank you 🙂
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Beautiful, Alethea. xxx
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Thank you, Ali xo
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