Red Land

Sandpaper skin, brushed by wind.
Sit and wait; meditate on desiccation and preservation even as transformation overcomes.
Things change the need; the choices made are not what they seem.

Looking down no green is seen.
Act is measured by action. Moving from east to to west, West seems best.
Shadow and light interplay, intertwine, for what are they if not two sides of the same coin?

Ripples on the surface are another kind of wave.
Move with the wind – bend if you can, break if you must.
When time comes, all will be put right.  Ordeal is just another kind of being.

When I See, I am set Free.


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