November 29, 2010
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No time for words,
As my feet take flight,
I soar on the shamrock meadow sky,
No audible sounds come from my mouth,

Silence sweeps across the field,
And in it, it carries me,
The calm brushes me from the ground carelessly,
I’m flying on this endless pasture of green,

Rhythmic beats echo from my soles,
Breaking the quiet and forming a song of my journey,
My song of travel flows softly,
Throughout the crevices of the mountainside,

My hair is strewn behind me,
Whipping out like ferocious flames,
As I dash across the sea of emerald shards for days,
Losing a sense of time,

Blissfully unaware of anything around me,
I’m rapidly sprinting to an unfathomable victory,
Something you are rarely able to obtain, but still I run,
Becoming a blur as a finally achieve freedom.

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