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The Mirror

Last night, I stared into a mirror and told the story of what I saw. A naked man with a love of tenderness A time-bound boy, fighting the impossible a fearful future of tornados, economics, collapse And, I saw flowers growing from that corpse. An unquenchable torch, a mountain home, And a trickster fox, gazing through me, as if to say "don't forget - there's some twists and turns yet to come." I saw the masks I wear, and why, And the fierce, tentacled genius who can withstand great pressure, by being soft. I even saw fun and wildness. I tell you, I saw hope. And now in the cup of my empty hands, I carry a heart that isn't just mine Beating, being, feeling, failing, forging. Pumping the tender dreams of my blood. The ocean listens as I exchange pacts for promises, And another, deeper wander begins. Suddenly I remember, The path forever receding, sea glass-gone smooth, Never knowing where the last bend lies. The wind is fierce. Carefully, slowly, one step at a time, I carry this heart, these tears, and my prayers. I offer rhythm as a poem, a dance, or a wander. I love as best I can. And then, I rest.

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