Confessing the self
is so rare these days
Only the gem, shine
in the darkest colliery
One may be
of laziest mind
Only a true seeker
Plough their verdant heart
Feet may blister
Yet the walking is so smooth
Only a true nectarine, invite
The buzz on their bloom
One may be tattered
Wearing torn clothes
Sweetness always
Orb the kind spirit
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