Congruent
Every day is a precious gift
A time for the joyous chaos of living
Hurried expressions of our own
Humanity
Careless caresses taken for
Granted
Till someone makes you
Pause...
A call, a whisper, a shout
Heard only by a chosen heart
The words may come easily,
Or they may splinter apart
But still the message is received...
In the purity of a soul now cleansed
By the simple miracle
Of meeting it's
Congruent
Self.
Copyright © Amy Megquier | Year Posted 2016
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