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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Fantasy >> ID #1452950 |
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I wake to sleep And take my waking slow. In sleep what is there to know? I learn by following where I have to go. This is the field where the battle did not happen. Her hands lie open in the long fresh grass.+ Her lips look like rosey blooms. She is my Goddess; My Chrishna. I take refuge in her. Our heavy breath Our song of love. ~~~ *(^) * *
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