berry-2

Chimes set free the divine distraction of it all.

A unique sense of liberation marries my soul to that which no one can own.

Even if late for the uprising, I am at home.

Traversing each corner,

are dim days.

Dead-ends of provoked, piles of rubbish.

Infused in between,

the possibility of poised promise.

So easy to compass my migration toward flooded tree-lines.

Palatable ache.

Palpable forests…just for sake.

Still,

empower me,

again and again,

for the beauty my pilgrimage creates.

 

 

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