it is both,
the calm of the setting sun,
rage of several fires,
sweet ring of springs,
thunderous gush of rivers.
A force that beckons us,
onto a forward march,
into this brick kiln
and then it tears me apart,
a pull that pushes down,
a push that pulls upwards,
it is my kingly crown,
this song I’ve never heard.
Reblogged this on awakeningofabibliophile.
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Thank you!! :))
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thy love, “a push that pulls upward” yes once we need this
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