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Answer to Petrarch's sonnet 130 Soul, thou who know'st each thought before it's born, And every tortuous road that gathers dust, I gladly offer thee my dreams in trust - Tomorrow I will celebrate, not mourn. In meditation I let go thoughts worn, As freedom grows, I feel no longer trussed. Collected wounds can soften, lose their crust, Thy presence is my rose, without a thorn. I feel thy gentle touch upon my cheek, removing all old sorrow from time past as finally I find the peace I seek. Tomorrow I might feel again harassed, then I'll sit down and use mantra's technique to join thy peaceful grace in prayer amassed. |
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