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Memory
It's the dream that we awaken from
It's the rising moon and evening sun
A single grain of sand
In a desert full of scorpians.
It's a thread of grass inside an Indian quilt
It's the leaves that grow and the flowers that wilt
It is, believe, a single individual
Their brilliance is merely heightened.
It's the brightest color of blue in a night sky
It's the yearning in an Arabian night
A single petal, its pigment true
The kind of silence that talks with you.
It is the falcon riding high along the wind
It is the enemy that is your friend
It is, believe, the Heaven above
The silver shilling that we name, "Love."
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.-+Black and Blue, Broken and Bruised+-.
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