RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Lightly walking, floating as if on air, wandering many
stories of subconscious reasoning.
Purposely looking behind each closed door, hoping to find
something special of my own.
Reflecting in mirrors through the ages, rooms of wisdom
and genius, contemplating life's mystery and wonder on
the hearth of brightness.
Sacred posing from depths of total being handled with
care and gentle breeding.
Sacrificing iotas of daily existence to live on shores
of golden sand, silenced by peaceful whisperings of
Gently falling within, listening to the bells ringing out
freedom of unconscious renderings.
Holding on tightly to the reverberations of quivering souls,
touching one another in serene passing, touching so
quintessimately, the heart and soul of God.
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