Year of yin: abundance

October taught like a bow string drawing from the well that sprung in cool darkness of the soul rippling familiar resonance. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck warm in the dappled sunlight, as hand over fist works steadily to pull buckets of cool crisp crystal to my parched tongue that has cupped prayers silently for too long. Discovered while divining for a secret garden where my soul could bloom undisturbed. My eye focused on the horizon, rod in hand, aiming at the heart of unsung mysteries, finger strikes a chord, echo of caverns below humble footfalls, open to receiving each other in abundant grace. Glory in the morning as a purity that tastes fresh on salty lips slides down my throat in mutual gratitude of the refreshed. Harmonic symphony in an instant. Celebration of bounty surrounded by love notes from death.


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