I have stories to learn and lessons to earn in the confines of my mind.
I’ll take the line and sort out the moss on the rotted logs as I jump across rivers flowing rapid down the white water canyons of time. I’ll write the hymns humming in caverns like bearfoot whispers dancing in the moonlight. I’ll sing it out loud until my voice turns gritty, harmonies sung through the branches of a barren tree yearning for cover under moonlit eyes. The pinks and purples and orange flares
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