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poem

Hidden

How many moons must go by in which I miss your gaze? There is no reason I should care but the forest is ablaze and ashes are falling all around. I see the smoke curl around branches and all I think about is tender shoots pregnant with sap. Why must

Perfect Mix

Allow for the good things to come. The space is made The time is now Opening the heart center with crystals and smoke Relinquishing the past the pain the missepts Re align with the now Love what you have Attract what you love Feel deeply Share This is a perfect

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