Live from Cairoston

Drawings of a child

You used to write to express yourself,
Before learning that what you wrote,
Came true.
Now you write to draw your own Fate,
While I am sitting next to you.
Like a father watching his son,
His tears dripping,
Like prayer beads,
With cupped hands and a shivering heart,
Praising the One,
Pushing your-reed

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