Pure and innocent
like washed volcanic sand on a tropical beach
No sigh of indentation
Or human footprints — ideations.
Just like the newness of early salt-sprayed mornings—
full of promise.
I see your old soul in a young shell
Constantly enthralled by the secrets you tell
Of things you’ve seen
And places you’ve been
Hurling through lifetimes —
32’000
Clearing karma
Seeking moksha
· · ·
© I. Trudie Palmer
One Love