There is much that goes on between slave and Master. Most never understand. These poems are not for them. They, by and large, are not graphic. These just speak to the need.
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There is sun in the hollow caught on a tree
a torn scrap of a scarf flapping in the wind. -
Tracing the light
that holds you warm -
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A Little Snack
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Every moment divides between paths.
There is no standing still.
