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Things Not Seen
How do you paint ones soul?
Is it a circle with no edges or sides?
A squiggle perhaps-
Squirming, never to abide.
Or could it be a mist of sorts,
Drifting from spot to spot.
Leaving in its wake, stars for us to wish upon.
Maybe a box,
Radiating with light.
Or maybe, just maybe
The soul is not meant for sight.

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