An Ode, of Sorts
ethereal mist surrounds my soul
light in the distance is soft music.
whispers say,
"There is no danger"
an orchid grows in the mist,
the midst
fear not the light of your soul
you may grow in its presence
if you will allow us to flourish.
Vulnerability is a gift if taken as so.
break free
Copyright © Shayna Earnest | Year Posted 2008
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