Dead Sheep

broken arrows and broken dreams fly through air as the sheep sing.

Nothing is there for their taking so they bah, they bah as the arrows and dreams kill them dead.

A beautiful meadow full of fluff and read dead blood.

A beautiful meadow full of heart ache and loss.

Loss of a mind, loss of a choice, loss of a fear that was once alive in their voice.

But  none of which did anything to fight against the fear,

None of which could even grasp freedom by the ear.

I hold on to this image of serene peace and quantum healing.

I hold onto this love that I know can be, I can see, I can feel, I truly just want to be.

So here I am I stand. A choice I make I can. To be free to be me, to let loose of self judging gravity.

Fly to the moon and look back at earth, fit in the palm of my hand.

La Loving Logan

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