Peer through your own eyes Into the reality you have stitched, Each fiber has been hand-sewn By your thoughts and dreams. A bird lands on the windowsill But what brought it to you? A silent whistle, a tune that you know And it knows? A thought is carried on a breeze. Pull into your hands That which you desire Until your fingers are so filled with your tapestry of colors, That you must hang it from the point of the crescent moon, To the tip of a bright star. Cut the threads … [Read more...]
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