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“Next Breath”

When we give thanks to life
it is also to death;
The debt depends on the depth of what is expressed.

So let’s not regret our weakness,
but get to respect
how peace must fret no neglect.

As streams rush we’re checked & inspected;
In moments, left bare & naked from adornments like drawings swept & erased quick.

Greed’s rust sees what’s the dirt,
mother nature as a good escape to have to leave such mess on the pavement;
In which we step on so grateful.

That means much of where we place our fears is a dream’s burst.

Seems one’s ignorant nature of authority
leaves people in need,
crushing their dreams;
Feet, rustling leaves,
Weak, kept on their knees:
Indeed, a tragedy of hustling schemes.

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