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The Stranger Before Me She stands before me naked, exposed. Her essence emanating from deep within, engulfing, consuming, my every breath as I seek the wisdom of her life. Searching her eyes for secrets of her soul, revealing ecstasy once begotten by love. Stained by the colors of death and loss, Yet still in quest of elusive dreams. Her heart speaks softly of who she was. Toughened by disillusion, disappointment, scarred by anguish, tormented by grief, Yet still open to the prospect of happiness. Hands now roughened by long years of toil, remember the soft feel of a warm new life. Grown crooked, stiffened, the signs of age, Yet gently cradling and embracing hope. Body, once trim and agile in its youth, becoming stubborn, rigid, the results of time. Aching, lethargic, from long-suffering years, Yet driven to triumph over its own inadequacy. The vision before me stares, scrutinizes, struggling to contemplate its 'truth.' And, as I ponder my reflection in the mirror, I finally recognize - the stranger before me. Mad Moon |
Additional Notes:
'I remember when.....'
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