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wildthingsandmagic:

Gentle soul on the cusp —
quiet as a night full of stars,

cupped full to brimming,
a holder of hope, unassuming 
like the wind sweeping 

the sand, days that reshape 
the land, dunes shift and life wanders 
like a tremor, eyes full of words unsaid,

and I suppose… we could go on like rivers,
like herons and twigs, shells and 
the mountain… calling the dark

from moon and the sea, song like

refrain —

who are you? 

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