“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” – Rumi
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I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office The empty chair there lingers. dark tendrils coiling in my mind— my blind rage pleading for quiet healing. flashbacks clash like striking thunder opening buried treasures of truth. and in that final brand searing cry My heart reborn, mindlessly adrift in spectral mist. I gladly depart as sleet glazes, streets so slick…..
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