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Sunday, March 2, 2025

Lament of the Clouds

Mist lifts, cool against the skin, 

Air thick with moss and clay.

Clouds twist slowly, muted layers,

Like a sigh held deep within.

–A pause–

Sun cleaves the sky, sharp as ice,

A whisper stirs, thirsting for release.

The world, held between–

A pulse,

a silence–

    the heavens break open.

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