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At the centre of it all Is a timelessness. From the grief Of a father who’s lost his son, licking a salty tear as it slowly drips down his cheeks, To the fluttering of butterflies on a warm spring day As you reach your fingertips upward as if to stroke this fleeting moment The young woman Eager to face the world, Hair blowing in the wind, Breathing in another dawns sunrise along the coast in a somewhere town. Sometimes, I awake in the middle of the night Feeling This steady beat Within the centre of it all, A connection On a sleepless night, Reminding me to live with reverence and respect, Reminding me of How we are all woven From the same cloth
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Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 6:32 PM UTC
Cloth
At the centre of it all Is a timelessness. From the grief Of a father who’s lost his son, licking a salty tear as it slowly drips down his cheeks, To the fluttering of butterflies on a warm spring day As you reach your fingertips upward as if to stroke this fleeting moment The young woman Eager to face the world, Hair blowing in the wind, Breathing in another dawns sunrise along the coast in a somewhere town. Sometimes, I awake in the middle of the night Feeling This steady beat Within the centre of it all, A connection On a sleepless night, Reminding me to live with reverence and respect, Reminding me of How we are all woven From the same cloth
heather-moon
Written by
Canadian
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 6:32 PM UTC
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