Hanging in Compton Hanger
looking, feeling yet unknowing silence opens eyes to the vista. walking lightly as the feather on the breath gently, lightly on earth’s broken crust trees remind of fallen hero’s grounded seed heads abundance ripened. my breath my soul exhilarated still movement compels, forward moral breath cutting through the cold ramet of winter. the green land becoming greener, sap rising Ivy clinging climbing up spent wood. Stump, bygone of mortal’s plans Grass moist to touch, spiky, blunt, stile hewed by past pilgrim’s touch barrier, a stopping place, reflective, moving forward, past the knowing into the unknowing into the peaceful knowing
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