Friday, September 21, 2012

Our Nacred Hearts

Time does not heal all wounds of heart and mind
We learn, each moment, to stop touching the hurt
A distance that we lacquer a layer at a time until
-- a cure! -- a stone-walled defense against the pangs

 As every raindrop traps a mote of dust
And every pearl contains a grain of sand
It is the pain we have on the inside
That creates our outer beauty

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