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Petals on your brow

Petals fall on the

brow of your skull

A whispering wind

passes through hell

These are not the seas

in which I choose to


What is it that you


A lock of hair to plant

the seed

A slap of justice to

bring you to your


A weeping willow

with silken leaves

You wished Mother

Earth would cower in

her sleep

Yet it’s in her dreams

in which she’s freed

Take from earth what

you will

Mother moon will

watch you choose your


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