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The Swaying The Moon Insists Of
I didn't know that the moon,
sitting just above the horizon line,
the shyness,
the stillness of its presence
was what keeps me still,
keeps me tethered to the earth
encompassed in its artistry.
As I sway in and out of my mind, of love, of reason,
much like the tides, the swaying the moon insists of it,
I think now,
that I too have a reason,
a reason for breathing,
for swaying and feeling and being.
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