The self-decline bastion of human rights, rises above,
But gravity makes angels fall,
They chased Lilith out of pardes
Arguments for killing of one another’s kin,
She here white money whispering about a could, dead and flemming goal
In the end we might be hurte
and after hurte there is healing
Red shines from the sorrow of oppression
She sharpen care and connection as a weapon
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To You that was it. So our We-space ends. I sit with the rest, trying to make sense. Questions to the World. Questions to myself ( empty all dried up hanging in thin air like dropped suspended frozen, left behind ) From here: Where to turn… How… CAN I connect?
Coming this morning from morning sea bath. It is like being embraced by the sea, the morning wind, in clouds with rooms of sunshine. I prepare myself for traveling to Sisters Hope Home. I feel light, flexible, fast in my wondering, nervous excitement