Born of the eighth astrological sign in the Zodiac..
A Mid-day in November.. the last orange leaf falls.
near the Ocean along the green harbor..
another lost leaf, another lost soul..
Guided by the wind the orange crisp leaf lifts off into the abyss,
a spec of perception travels to lye softly on the reflection of the sky.
And there she ponders, underneath the sky; so vast..
as life, as the ocean, as the stars which connect to a dipper..
scoop her up, into a dream..
only in her thoughts is she completely free.
Into the door which enters the mind,
back into a state of remembrance and still images..
of an family.
A tree branch split early on into two different yet distinct parts.
They both the root of which the flower blossoms..
Perhaps a weed..?
a piece of living matter.
wandering about, amongst the masses..
Imagination kept close,
hopes kept high,
praying to the gods that my energy will never let my spirt die.
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