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I give my voice to God,
I'm dead. And yet…
I live again,
I stand before you.
Don't you see me?
In the light of the moon.
I sit and speak out,
it feels so different.
As I rock back and forth,
I stand and speak wisely
but make no sound.
Low beneath the weeping willow stand
Stars and a full moon grand
On the ground of the earth’s land
death by the color
Mine was here to,
you knew how careful
i loved you
In the morning spread
my cheeks white-red
And i laughed
at the end,
where i stand
Oooh… Phew!

One and 1 are indeed different
from each other, right?

One is a word, and the other is a number.

Yet, when I am not visible, no one sees that I exist separately.
I want to be young, to be many. I want to surround the audience, the rest of mine, the overloaded inside my empty hollow. The fear is shallow, hollowed out in being. When I let go of my sadness for them all, more becomes less. And when time feels carved, my sorrow is open as I tremble. When I surrender in grieve toward. Even one and two are three, if one of the two is not alone, it still has more to go. Life is shown in the leaves, the **** grows on the trees... curving my dreams, with good and evil, I talk steadily in the morning, when they stray down the seven stars below heaven.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
Through my thoughts,
floating... away from everyone,
where no one can disturb,
lives my soul that God will guard.
That which makes me myself,
forever loved in my heart.
winnie the poem Nov 2024
I am here to be,
her shadow,
hidden, in a widow.
Her dark in death,
mysterious,
fallen into star.
A pastlife scar,
you,
my beautiful wife,
thats who you are.
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