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May 2017
A great golden bell hangs in the middle of a piece of sacred ground
Under a large temple far from civilisation as we know only the sound
There are walls made from boulders of the mountains that surround
They keep the secrets of their people safe and outside is a ghost of empty promises never to be found
The people know to live and keep healthy as only others can destroy and have no bounds
I travelled such a long way to find this place and hear for my self the Bell astound
When I am taken to be washed clean in petals of orange ,yellow, red and white for purity of discovery all around
I am painted black like a empty vessel with eyes yet to see and hear the sound of the bell pound
The time was midnight and the bell was struck , all of it's knowledge came right through me and the flowers smiled floating along a brook,I know of peace and tranquillity and became a faith healer always to wear black and hold dear to me the time I was found.
Written by
Peter Kiggin
257
 
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