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The Soul’s Journey Through Words

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scribbles on wall

In my dreams I cannot grasp the sunflower

My head beds down
on a pile of books.
I’ve devoured
West African Religions.
Others scanned as
Why Do Things Always Go Wrong –
now, scaffolding,
vertically challenged –
words prop up my soul
as it navigates
the latest landscape.

Poem: The Travelling Soul: A Reflection


Author Skendong

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