The spark In a void, Once only a shell. A curl, A husk of life, A chrysalis Waiting to burst. Awakening Becomes A morning look That welcomes Warmth, No sour or arid Sleep now. Such rising spirit A swelling mound, A fine, fresh Moist prominence Of sorts, Eager to receive Such gain. Pressing, breasting, Poised To leave its...
Learn MoreLife is suffering Speckled with joy. So treasure it When that blessing comes. Bringing with it, As it does, A nourishment That’s so rich, So intense, You could run a knife Through it, Like a slab of butter. A sacred hamper Of hope then, For far tougher days Ahead, When storms A plenty Will, once again, Seem to chide us so. Yet...
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