

PluckMy hand reaches for the zenith until my shoulder pops, but despite the minute size of the bright sun, I cannot touch it, nudge it, or even pluck it from the crystal clear canopy above me.Pluck


PerspectiveThe smudge from my thumb is gliding with the ripples that whisk across a wheat field.Perspective
The backward letters are dodging mighty pines. I wish they would divide to trace individual paths through the trees
A clinging drop from yesterday's rain is steadily losing altitude, but it is never inhaled by the stubborn clouds.


LamentOver the putrid ground the willow sheds a tear. Dew, like silver beads, falls from autumn leaves, golden brown, eroding the soil, exposing the root that rots to the sunburst core. From within the faded stone, a mournful chime penetrates the crumbling mortar. Persuaded by the splintered yoke it is the tribute of a bronze shell, the tolling of a mighty bell.Lament
With each delicate chord that echoes, from my quivering strings, a mellow tone, another glistening trail of harmony is tricklin
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There are no victories in all our histories without love
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"With enough soap, you can blow up the world."
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"With enough soap, you can blow up the world."
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my gallery - [link]
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"With enough soap, you can blow up the world."
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"With enough soap, you can blow up the world."
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"With enough soap, you can blow up the world."
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