Pure. (a poem)


caressing my face
with gentle strokes,
filling me
with serenity,
my eyes close
in awe
of the openness and vastness
the nature displays,
the winds, carrying
the calm of waters,
elevating me from worldly realms
into moments of solitude,
the clouds
in erratic patterns
wanting to shower a story from above
and I, a mere receptacle
of all that is good
and pure…

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