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Rushing into the shower of sprinkled tears that heavens release when the sun not affirmed. Rainbows hide in waiting for the wails of splashes that rise above. Natural airiness burgeons cleansers in clothes, as they toil up hills in the shadows of curtained splendor that give sullen petals worthy emergence. The skies never seem more potent with pride when highlights are hidden for desired remorsefulness. Just like the destitute, who paddle about in the grittiness of pavements, searching for allotted sand meals in the wrappings of trash, when dampness provides tasty fare in the spices of windy rejection, seasoned clouds finally converge for wetted festivals.

Why do we venture into lighted darkness with verses of purpose and diminished flight when vision becomes hazed with soaked brows of clarity?

Sea of pebbles seamlessly part with each step towards hilly camps of fog, that become cushioned in questionable lather. Chirping birds loudly gestate in surrender of what can’t yet be seen, but will be in thickness of reckoning. Movements are sloshy in the symbolic forest of rains that hang in motion with fright of being grounded. Yet, there is a bathing in session, spurning hatched rebirth of what has been renewed for the sake of primal continuance.

When we emerge from sprinkles of enlightenment, those drops of baptism will flow away to whisk anchored trails of thoughts into draped vessels of life.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say! https://medium.com/membership https://www.patreon.com/Ezziegirl

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