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Teen
Mag
Euphorsyne
Leap, from the trees to the stream
its brown and raging,torrents carry me
A silken moment with a moss on a rock,
Everything is still in a moment of hesitation
Two blinks and we are in motion
on the wind with the leaves of green
Follow water to a cave
cold and shallow
time to exist
its real
touch to feel
hard and weather beaten
senses are sharp
eyes of old
have learned
and cleansed the soul
Its beautiful in here
time has shaped
so naturally
A moment of sun
brillant and blinding
draws me out
one web covers all of this
eyes upward
protected by lids
the strained bliss
Donal Bray
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