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Aug 2018
Air treads into noble sand.
Shores of land wave, swaying, as essence says to.
Fields of dunes mending themselves.
The sovereign grain, it leaps off the brim of hills in hand.
Where dancing grounds speak solitude.
And too, where emptiness fills to bring atonement to nature.
Coasts for no sight, the living warmth.
In place of nothing, there may truly be something.
Written by
Noah  19/M
(19/M)   
384
 
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