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There’s such a thing, the Serenity Spring,
The cradle of all beauty.
Abode of light,
A haven from blight,
A place to pour out your worry.
The gentle waters, pristine,
Will make the filthiest soul clean;
Reflections reveal the truth, however ugly.
Simply let yourself be submerged
As your stains are rinsed and purged.
Float on your back and take in the green,
As rays of light create silhouettes of leaves.
Take a deep breath and inhale the smell
Of white lilies whose secrets you mustn’t tell.
A choir of birds sing a delightful melody
That melts all sorrow and agony.
Welcome, they sing, to the Serenity Spring
Where we’ll wash your anguish away.
When in your darkest hour,
Just close your eyes,
Delve deep into your mind,
Let your thoughts unwind,
And in this paradise you’ll be laid.
I pray that each of you shall feel Peace not mans peaces but God's peace,
That you shall have Wisdom and be filled with Unconditional love for others.
That you shall be filled with Joy and all anger shall cease in your heart.
that your day will begin and end with Great joy, love, and peace.
Tha you shall be blessed with going in and coming out too.
That you shall become filled with great understanding and wisdom.
I pray that everyone shall see a new and loving person within you.
That they see and want what they see that you have in your new self.
Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.
true story, like most of our poems are.
Its always beneficial and awesome to do something,
And actually know why you're doing it,
It makes more sense,
And gives more drive.
To be desolate
in the depths.

Better than to love;
The heart shatters.

Lift;
Drop;
Descend
Splash.

Down drown sung breath;
Where divisions hold dear.

To float;
To sink;
To be
… where the void sees

Night; Day;
Surrender in turn

‘Til  to surrender is all there is…
And, echoes

Emit what was…
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