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02 — Poem
A quiet way to speak louder than ordinary words.
Featured poem
A paper moon hangs soft above,silver whispers through the night.I trace the lines of every dreamuntil the dawn becomes my light.
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When the world slows, the hidden ideas rise — waiting just beneath the surface of the quiet.
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I trace the lines of every dream until the morning learns my name and the night lets go.
Sometimes the quietest moments speak the loudest, if only we are still enough to listen.
A world had waited quietly for her eyes — bright words tucked beneath the ordinary.
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