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More writing and poetry to come. more progress made with my craft.

The roots run deep, deep enough to tap into the water in the ground.

Always making something new, except

now more than ever before it comes coherently. Like a cipher made of light, I decipher its meaning; I reach out and pull it from the sky like a rope, a thread, tossed down to me by the muse. A hold on tight and question not

which way we will go. But I carry with me a notebook and a pen or pencil

to record the journey.