Tonight it is spring.
The time of mourning my dead flesh, mind, and heart is short this year.
On this night spring is here- at the dead of winter.
Tonight a breeze meanders between my legs during the widest steps.
It follows as I look skyward to see vibrant palms and trees- they quiver with my pleasure.
Framed by a clear violet sky they appear as grand paper silhouettes; black.
They gauge the nearness of the stars.
I aspire.
aspire.
aspire.
I do lose my focus- the stars are nearer than my palms.
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