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Nov 2015
the hearth crackled, the flames spat.
Warmth came from its dancing recesses,
and with it light to greet the shadows.
I curled in front of this ancient thing,
yet newborn through the strength of my
will. And I dozed before the flickering flames,
courting shadows as well as light. And my
heart was glad.
The hearth is the home, the home is the hearth.
Christian Bixler
Written by
Christian Bixler  25/M/Colombus, GA
(25/M/Colombus, GA)   
905
   SPT
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