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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1650510
I'll cede to the Isle of the seed.
Knowing

The eye sees most of reality, but knows
itself only by looking in the mirror.
The foot, on the other hand, only
feels itself when it feels the ground.

My heart knows no joy without
understanding sadness.
I hope the same is not the case
with love. I hate that it is.

A flower is a bud exploded,
a seed the flower died,
the seedling the rotted seed,
the bud the knowing seedling.

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