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A creased soul

To have peace of mind In the palm of your hand To twiddle and fiddle with it Playfully, offhandedly To throw it high up in the air And to trust it to come back To the fold of your palm Like a piece of metal to a magnet Simply and automatically. Could this be the higher ideal?
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Written by
enigma-1
Kenyan
Published
Apr 12, 2017
Lines·Words
10·57
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