Spell
The spell should break quickly now,
and all will become distant,
like birth....
in the throes of labor,
as the tentacle grip
that has
held me
in the clutches of this moving terrain,
releases,
void of memory,
and I march on,
Pilgrims torch in hand,
held high.....
greeting the sapphire sky.
Copyright © Kathryn Sweeney | Year Posted 2018
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