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Gn.
Made by dreams, I only exist if you think of me.
Forget me not for your thoughts are weaving me....
Gm.
Rootless moons and homeless raindrops
Caught in the madness of the surreal.
We are the poetry
The rain reads on its solitary evenings.
We all see their beauty but when flowers shed tears, who is there to soothe them?
Perhaps the answer lies not in reason,
But in the acceptance of miracles in faith.
May your heart believe even if your mind cannot yet understand.