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Oct 2018
Through all this unborn silence is a legion of angels humming.
When I my fairy fantasy self arrive back home the strings that are bathed in golden light and that connects us will be revealed.
I'll think back to when I was a child and made of pieces.
How I would look up at sky blue like nothing really mattered.
Those drifting clouds muttering hallow English words at each other.
This galaxy in my grasp, vibrating with such mass that purple dust pours from the cracks of my clenched fists.
These dust particles are the size of planets.
Like sad dandelions spores they drift lethargic and unbalanced into higher dimensions.
Written by
CGW  woodinville
(woodinville)   
715
   Fawn
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