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Steven Martin Aug 2013
The sand

It cradles us so tight

Were creatures playing in the light


The grass

It swallows us up whole

The moon directs us to our goal


Her mind’s Vibration I must find

I’ll search until I’m good and Blind


With gifted wisdom to see clearly

Her deepest pool

She gives so freely
Steven Martin Aug 2013
A step on snow
A step on moss

I stumble slow
My mind is cross

A bird flies low
A stone is round

She exists

Without a sound

— The End —