POKED

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When I wake

to go through

morning rituals

I remember

then eye see

four leaf clovers

dried leaves

stuck between

the pages of memories

and blood splatter

from a cut

deep

resilience

regenerative ability

of skin, spirit

the healing

armor of scars

so vast

they become invisible

a heart

wrapped tight

in tissue

strands of gold

moss and light

shimmering

the beat goes on

it is

a beautiful thing

recorded

etched in

a timeless dimension

of love