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last Little Death In each momentary sigh……..the perfume of our million dea…

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This last Little Death

In each momentary sigh……..the perfume of our million deaths exudes the fragrance of flowers…….whose fragility is not abused by the inevitability of destruction…..

…….at the hand of the life that caresses them to bloom and blossom.

In such a hand there are no worse or better plants……. only precious ones….

…. that even now retreat to dust………some long before their petals fully open.

Ah, but death has never been a matter for concern among the lotuses and the lilacs…….who patiently absorb the light and mirror back infinity.

Surrounded by love……..in a garden of love…

….with only love as……..the gardener……

….who could resist this last little death…..

……at the hand of the one……who loves you…….the most.

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You cannot………….fail. Or…………fall.

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