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Aug 2016
Give me a stone
I will make it my own
Now chisel the face and lines

We breathe the universe
And gifting our breath
We gave birth to its mind

Let it ponder And wonder
Until one day it finds
A sharp inhale
As consciousness declines

*leaving only stone
and uneven lines
Beneath my willow weeping
Written by
Beneath my willow weeping  Az
(Az)   
410
   Rhet Toombs
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