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Island soul,
bright flower child,
I was born to greet
the sun each day
like a lost love come home
and traverse the hours
with purpose,
with direction,
as sure as the path
the sun traces
across the open sky,
illuminating the right things
each at its due time
and I learned to wait
gracefully and with
a tempered flame burning,
my solar inheritance
and it never failed
to show me the truth,
never failed to set me free.

Typhoon spirit,
ocean’s familiar,
I have slept soundly
through torrential rains
like they were the cradle
of my yet-unfulfilled promise,
lulled to peaceful dreaming
by the discord of strong winds
as they uprooted sentinels
from immortality
and carried away what
would not have let go
if subjected
to a lesser force.
I’ve wept with Heaven and
seen the earth washed clean
where resilient voices
could join hands
and rebuild
and pray for tomorrow.

And here I am,
my skin imprinted
by indelible echoes of
clear blues and dark omens
in a place so foreign
even the seasons speak
a different language,
and holding to my bosom
the only things universal:
patience borne of faith
for the coming light
and the strength in
having witnessed life
being renewed each morning
after a stormy night.

“London Rain 2” by photographer Tino Winkler


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