Isso
A delve into roses inside out.
The petals fan and flair with the nurture of dew.
Harmony of upside down and turn around in traces and hearts unfurl.
To peer, without haste and permit the eyes and nose to investigate. The hands and body bend to each shrine of nature.
. . . and yet?
Awake in the wild of impermanence, the temple
draws an adventurer.
What do I know of secrets I don't understand?
Like dew, a phantom or the flare of sunset gone. With hope revisited.
and yet . . . to awaken and arrive again at dawn.
Choose a metaphor to expand.
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