The Art that is you,
is waiting to show itself to you,
to be revealed,
delicately;
like the deep and visceral knowing,
that you always return to -
at the same point,
in the bigger spiral.
Your canvas stretches to deeper and wider edges,
as you paint blind;
and in your trusting,
you may just find,
with this faith,
you may see, in time,
the true and beautiful reflection
staring back at you,
So the mirror may melt,
And you give the outer,
A long lost hug,
Knowing the blessing and blending
Of both of your worlds,
Is really just another level
A layer
Of your coming home
To you and your bone-made throne.
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