Muse
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*by Howie Good*
This place, I was told, wasn’t safe. Why maybe the line to get in was out
the door. I took a toke of a pre-roll. A bunch of hobos were als...
17 hours ago
Weak, tired arms
stretching outward
Cupping the morning dew
on the yard.
Stillness of air
soft as my breath,
Sunlight through the mist
have me bathed.
I could not listen
in a world so uncalm
And could not hear
What my heart truly want.
A countryside
in early morn
Soft and quiet
like a newborn soul.
Labels: Pondering, Quietude, Reckoning, Reflection, Serenity
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