Fishing the karma of water,
drifting bodies dimly seen,
always the ghost of ego.
This path, what is it?
Swirls. Flotsam. Flow.
Not easily seen, closer you get.
Releasing thought and fear,
me judging me
for who I am,
floating the bubble line
8/5/24
GREEN RIVER
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YOU ONLY NEED A SINGLE DREAM OF BEAUTY TO GET YOU SINGING IN THE NIGHT
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