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Truth comes.
She cuts the cord in the web of illusion.
After freedom, what follows?
The flower meets the sky again on a windy day.
She cuts the cord in the web of illusion.
After freedom, what follows?
The flower meets the sky again on a windy day.
2 comments:
Heavy poem...I wonder what you are thinking about...lovely photo...
To me after freedom? I don't know, I'm looking for it..
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