#Life
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The Little Black Boy by William Blake : The Poetry Foundation
My mother bore me in the southern wild, / And I am black, but O! my soul is white; / White as an angel is the English child: / But I am black as if bereav’d of light. Continued… My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day, She Read more
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Earth Forms Our Whispers
“Our imagination flourishes in the wind carrying us to new heights of deliverance.” Read more
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2016-
Every season has its own gifts to bare. Hopefully, with more pleasurable gifts to share. Each day is like a a repetitive cycle when our souls awaken within. We rise, live, and fall again into sleep each day.We enter into the silence.Then from our mutable sleep we arise again with the sun to journey upon Read more