Gazing at the naked canvas words flutter like butterflies above the chill meadow. Shoulders becoming weightless as I speak to my inner world. I saw a dying circus. I witnessed crimes of lust in my pointless dreams. I sat in the fields under a treacherous sky. I stared into the innocent clown with a tear jerking frown. My feet are feeling like boulders. I was starving for salvation. I snarled at the venom in the second paragraph. I fell to the roses that read my poetry. I embraced the words of Mary Oliver. I heard the chimes of Hemingway. I thanked Frost for the road not taken. I felt the elegance of the chandelier. I saw my fears disappear in the clouds. I saw love at first sight. I worshiped the fragrance of authors. I no longer feel the stirs of blocked words. I saw the sinister leaves blow away. I felt the breeze of completeness consume me.
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