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Aging woman stands on the precipice betwixt birth and death reflecting upon her life. Bereft she sometimes feels when reflecting upon her life. Crying, she succumbs to silent tears, her accumulated ocean of brine trickling down. Dreams, her nascent moons, shine bright in midnight sky between dusk and dawn. Eye lines on her face tell of a life filled with joy, sorrow, love, compassion, and pain. Fiery ledge on which she stands, she hears winter's soul as a redemptive season song. Gratitude feels her heart for the life and soul the Creator gave her. Hope wells up inside her as she recognizes it is the anchor of her weary soul. Illusionary world with its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams is of no interest to her. Jam-packed her life has been, a mixed bag filled with kismet and misfortune alike. Kaleidoscopic memories, good and bad intermingle; she keeps them all in her heart. Loud and aggressive persons she avoids, for they are vexatious to her spirit. Mellifluous and meaningful stories and poems she strives to write. Numinous and spiritual experiences she seeks. Obesity was her affliction; food was once her addiction. Placidly she goes about her days growing wiser with each passing day. Querist she is, seeking quality of life rather than mediocrity. Reflections of her life come like a mirrored pond on a spring day. Strength of spirit she nurtures, shielding herself when sudden misfortunes come. Transcendent spheres she ponders, “Do they do exist?” Uppermost in her mind is her unconditional, undying love for her husband. Verdurous life she seeks with dazzling days. Wrinkles on her face are wrinkles over her soul, that part of her that’s not aged a day. Xeric she once was, having once wandered about the barren, dry desert of her life. Yearning still runs deep, for she was and still is a sojourner. Zealously she lives life, on the precipice betwix birth and death.
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