sacred soul

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I can always tell when summer’s getting closer

because I’ll be abruptly awakened by the bright beaming star arising far above my rests.

Its rays are gentle on my eyelids while I flutter and blink and fluster around in my sheets.

Yearning. Adjusting.

 

I used to get mad at the sun;

swear at it for interrupting my sleep.

But now, easy morning as the day welcomes its enlightening,

I smile at the beaming glare;

let it shine into the stained glass windows

of my sacred soul

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