Tuesday, 23 June 2015


There is a sacred place she goes to, every single day,

It is that place of still silence, where she goes to pray,

Where there´s no interference, by fussy hand of man,

Where there is no need to fret, to plot, or even to plan,

Where no noise is heard, & there´s no harsh glaring light,

Where nothing´s ever wrong, & all´s gentle & oh so right,

She goes away to that place, where she feels so very whole,

That place deep within her, that ancient Gods call the soul.

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