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I see my youthful dreams
Back over the yawning chasm
Across the scalding wilderness
A scattered pile of Icarus' flight
Like so many relinquished lizard tails
Necessary sacrifices in the art of survival
I study the series of skins
Moulted in the solitary valleys of death and rebirth
I soar above it now
Tip my fingers and bank back over a window of memory
Expecting to see the blood trail I remember depositing
Instead my vision is kissed
A river of crimson roses
Diamond studded paths amidst succulent berry fields
Mighty oaks adorning teeming brooks
Flashing wings and flowing grass
Is this my life?
This land of great beauty?
This paradise of soul, a feast of the senses?
The facts remain unchanged
But the soul chooses heaven
And the One more beautiful than description
Is healing a past littered with pain
And making a new history
A treasure chest of priceless moments
Rich in Glory and Beauty

Stephen Pursell, 
original: 12/98,
revised: 9/10/14