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Stars grow beneath the soil,
whispers rising from the roots
like memories returning home.
I breathe in truth,
slowly, like dawn.
I rise, I rise
the silence breaks
like waves in spring.
There stands a mountain
carved from freedom, veiled in wind,
alive with the songs of awakening.
Our eyes meet in courage,
our voices braided in light.
A Poem for the Awakening

— The End —