Strolling through a park

Park dreams of being a forest

Tattered pathways mark

The way to fecund world

Rife with fabled streams

I run as though the devil wants me

He tries to impedes my noble goals

To be perfumed by nameless flowers

And nourished in holy waters

To sleep upon the base of a slope

Carpeted in tender grass of hope

In love with myself, a writer

Select and assign my words, my children

In such a place, an excellent place to start

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