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The Ancient Laws
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There is a sacred beauty within everything
the holy mark of light
within each breath
each word
each movement of life
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This silence fills me
and I cannot turn away from
the eloquence of it
and yet,
you ask me to shape language
around you
painting, somehow
the symbols that return us
to grace
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Poetry is prayer
or at least a reaching toward you
for it is any distance from you
that I cannot bear
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Fill my mouth
with shapes of light
that I may speak your name
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Fill my hands
with every color of mercy
that pleases you
and
brings you close to me
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