somewhere between cynicism and beauty
reality slides and grows, blossoms if you let it
from the seed to the flower in your mind
let that which was fall behind that said do not
...
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An extraordinary poem. Right from the heart of the poet speaking with the reader, his heart. Exquisite. When you write,
Part 2. When you write, " only your mother knows what it's like to have you, your whole being, deep inside, alive and breathing", you leave much more unsaid