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Time is a sacred reaping.
Its sickle breaks for none its work
gleaning from the fields of forgotten earth
what the soil of the mind has wrought;
The wheat of whispers
The chaff of word and deed
The ripened fruit of intentions gone awry;
All is yielded
Burning
Purging
Revealing.
Time is a scared reaping
of the secrets we are keeping
even from ourselves.
-Tiffany Dunyon

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