A poem from the five senses, with a final line for the sixth sense
written on January 3, 2026
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an endless sea of joy and peace on the horizon, so I weep my nostrils whiff a bouquet of grace and glory, gracious scents I hear the wonder in wonderful being written by the birds of morning My mouth feels textures, trembles as cinnamon breaths courage there is the briefest knowledge of light when I embrace a friend The light of my soul is impressed by the sanctity of angel’s quiet glow
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