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She is entering a space of tabula rasa

She wields a gentle scythe of sweeping clarity

Regarding off-axis thoughts,

embracing them

Seeking a place of solace and blanketed, altered peace

 

Craning forward, a twist of the sublime; a taste of spring

She gets on top of it, under it, around it, but never over it

For sweat and tears are indistinguishable

They mingle into duality

Saline release

Purification

A state of humanity

She is rock salt

                                                   A. Locke 2013