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Literature Text
there wasn’t any palm reader who would pretend
to see anything in the basement. ordinary men who thought
the whole thing would be amusing always had them -
there was no one I truly believed in.
an accident arrived and lived on soup.
he was singing and hurrying home,
the same as I. the thief looking back
and disappearing.
summer tiger, stepping outward,
died in my care. every detail melted
beside the woodstove -
an abandoned post office had been waiting.
every detail looking back
and disappearing.
to see anything in the basement. ordinary men who thought
the whole thing would be amusing always had them -
there was no one I truly believed in.
an accident arrived and lived on soup.
he was singing and hurrying home,
the same as I. the thief looking back
and disappearing.
summer tiger, stepping outward,
died in my care. every detail melted
beside the woodstove -
an abandoned post office had been waiting.
every detail looking back
and disappearing.
Literature
She Heals
It’s in the blood. Sprinkled among the human elements is something other-worldly, something…magic. At birth there’s just a spark of it, nothing noticeable but as one grows so does that spark; manifesting in one's early adulthood. It’s not as scary or disconcerting as one might think…To them, it feels very natural and freeing. From her palm it rose White light shimmers, she begins Healing our bruised world
Literature
Age
My hands have never been as heavy as they are now. Looking at my fingers, withered by time and hardships, I recall their former lightness as I bent timber into pieces of art—so agile and precise. As I sit here in front of the workbench I made decades ago, the same workbench in front of which I used to spend night after night pouring every ounce of my being, of my soul even, I am reminded of how much has changed. As I sit here and gently run my calloused, numb hand across the same old wood, which although has no ears to hear me, I still feel the need to apologise to—for my inability. It hurt. It hurt to look at my countless tools, knowing I’ll NEVER use them again, pains me more than my diminishing health ever could. Ever since I become like this, all I do is come here in my workshop and just sit. It was difficult to come here today. I slipped and fell down the steps to the basement. I've fallen down before, but today was more painful than ever. Getting up was hard, and my knees still
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Great work!