Hands

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After Bysshe Shelley (Ozymandias)

Hands reaching the skies, the

Clouds that formed around the hand,

Weightless, floating that,

Was beaten and mock’d

Aligning them,

In a thoughtful prayer and

Blessing the

Wounded heart,

Minds broken that,

Helplessly abandoned a loneliness land to be fed.

by Natasha Parker

No.1 The Golden Shovel Series

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