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I Am Santo

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A million fall. Swept up in moments too grand for their tenuous grip on where they’d grown, they catch gusts of passion, take flight, and inevitably tumble. Lost roots, lost security and familiarity, their descent plays against myriad others littering days with the brilliance of chance. Risk is the open heart’s bedfellow, the unregulated beating of longing in chests swelled nearly to cracking by temptation to find better ways, happier homes. Then it’s wind and chaos, the shred of normal and the fire of lust, hope on the wind despite evidence on all sides of a Season’s toll. The fall promises much, then steals everything, leaving a landscape of decay and the memory of fleeting bliss. #autumn #fall #creek #leaves #foliage #poem #poetry #writer #writing #literary_imagery1 #literary_original (at After the Fall)

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