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About This Poem
Nurturing the Soul
verdant sprouts shoot forth from the freshly quenched earth.
All welcome the rebirth and rising of souls.
Archaic walls crumble. Who knows the true worth
of faith, no pretenses, of waning control?
An unnamed blessing, we cast off our burdens,
to emerge from sleep behind opaque curtains.
Rain nurtures the tender seedlings beneath soil.
With light, dusty land will bear fruit from our toil.
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