There is no pride nor a sense of superiority
No guilt nor shame
The heart opens
No happiness nor sadness
No past nor future
Just simple joy
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A drop of water;
Two trees; one still adolescent, the other ancient.
I place my palm, caressing the youngling’s bark;
so smooth, yet a little cold.
Within me rests a treasure trove,
ever-pulsing in symphony with my heart.
Concealed and guarded by resistance,
it trembles with volcanic vigor.