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The Angel with Cracked Wings
Light pierces through wind torn holes. My eyes ache adjusting to the light. Shapes and figures barely formed. A sweet scent calls me forward. But I know nothing of the day; like a blind man, seeking the sight he once knew. But it is not in the light one finds sight. It is in the darkness. Here the sightless have sight. Those who see are lost. In this place beauty is more than a word, more than a thing to look upon.

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#Poetry & Literature #Freemo