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Waking from dreams, reveling in their insight, being cautious on interpretations without.
Cautiously watching as images weave in and out, taking their time to leave profound messages in hallways of life.Soothing music prolonging episodes of literature as it continues to flow, cascading down waterfalls of thought, never catching onto anything jagged or sharp.Smoothly creating poetry because it’s fun to do and I love it.
Columns blocking my view, taking away my vision until I grasp it and make it mine again.
Consuming everything, being curious, questioning everything within my power and loving every minute of it.
Special purposes carried on angel’s wings, lifting tenderly,
internal peace as yet.Sanctuaries are literally unknown to children and that is ashame of parents who don’t take the time to share nature withthem.Belonging to a special place in time should be inherent, butis not always apparent.Children should be taught to look within themselves and findtheir inner peace and talents.Gifts from birth need to be…
Falling into a ravine, not being seen by anyone, save God.
Unless I decide to share with you through my writing.