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I hang on to all his words, the lulls in between, and I remember the stories like a pigeon remembers its way home.
Dreams are hints from the beyond, but they can also be warnings.
How do you keep it balanced? Once you carry your own water you will know the value of every drop.
We are each branches of the same tree. It does not matter that we go in different directions. The roots are one.
but we have run this beaten path so often our feet have memory, and we trust their way.
this roaring blue is an angry nightmare is a monstrous mouth and it is wide enough to swallow us whole.