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In The House Of Poetry
there is a house where
i am not wanted
but i keep telling myself
i belong here
the lady of the house
snobs me
the others keep their
abhorrence in silence
but i have the stars in my
hand
and so their nights are
dark
i have the moon in my mind
the sun in my heart
my heart is burning
my head is gentle and cool
the house is lonely
and so i must come and live there
i have the right
the lines of my palm
are the maps
of my claim to keep on
living
the house is telling me
about rules
i am silent
the Goddess says
the rule is the Heart
it is open
always open
always open.......
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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