The light has disappeared. The specific glow. The way it floated through the branches, one wide fig leaf at a time, combining into a secret shade of green that arrests the soul. The light that fell straight through my irises into my heart, filling me with a drunken lightness that would last for days. The bliss of connecting with such a loving green. A glimpse to bestow peace on the seer. We touch her warm ashes to find the memory of that once bright light.
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Mary Stenhouse
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timeasmymeasure
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