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How can a story
Float up from nothing?
Or are stories always born
From other stories?
Thoughts - orphaned children
But also angels with gifts,
Or demons with swords
Making us healers
Or killers.
Thoughts are radiant ions
Weaving illusion
Out of pure light
Arising from nothing
Returning to nothing
And in between
Signifying the world.
So raid the unknown
Love the womb
Not just the baby
And let the power of nothing
Reveal everything.
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