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I was wandering aimlessly and higher than a kite, that fateful night
When the two moons of Angela beamed new illuminations
Over the compromised horizon of my eyes

I'll remember them as the oracles of my awakening, my reckoning
As gifts to my ever-unfolding uprising
Into worlds of endless awareness

I was revolting as if against nothing, but revolting none the less
While little girls gave up big things they’ll never get back
From the blind forgetfulness of lust

Was always this way found youth’s identity, so fleetingly?
On this defiled journey, how does night again find the day,
and once again find innocence?

The memories, so bleak and devoid of a good thing, hearts’a’hoaring
Under the weight of an unborn world stands a little girl
Rounder than the world she’s in

Leaning on the everlasting rock of my shoulder, she made me feel older
And I realized she was younger than the world in her arms
Needed her to be

Take the second shoulder, arms as well and take the rest, putting to the test
This notion of invisible things becoming reality all over us
Concealed only by our own potential

Deciphering the archeology of intangible artifacts, shards of flesh and hearts of glass
Oh, the beauty of connecting freshly broken things
Fitly and finely assembled

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The following comments are for "That Fateful Kite"
by Tamir

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