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Unfinished Temples

20 October 2020 Leaves that rise better than roots make no sound when they fall. Once, Earth was created for my karma to heal yet in this silence of waiting rooms, the sun rises inside my temple. I am a molecule away from an unfinished symphony that keeps impersonating my frustration because my energy cannot hear itself think like swallowing set symbols of lungs on dehydrated pages missing you. {XM}

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 11/1/2020 6:50:00 AM
Enjoyed reading your poem.
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