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“Where are you?” I call out  to feelings so deadened by this grief.   I know not, You.   listless; beyond pain, insensate; behind joy.   an empty moor, a garden door, locked.   unyielding thorny mass wound weeping pus blocked.   how can I heal; when it isn’t real?   This poem is about…

self-development – “The Dance”

What if there was no need to change, No need to transform yourself Into someone who is more compassionate More present, more loving, or wise? How would this affect all the places in your life Where you are endlessly trying to be better?   What if the task is simply to unfold, To become who…