Sometimes the most satisfying
pleasures in life are cleaning up
the drudge of last year's fallen leaves
The raking of long spent tears into piles
Burning the over thought branches of brush
until they are turned to primordial ash
where fresh possibilities are able to grow
new life out of the old dead soil
But only if one allows themselves
to light the first inner spark hiding within
the eternal folds of a self made lifetime
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