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write for the Counsellors Café Mag

Imagine every sinew of the body, tight as a guitar string.

What tune should we play?

Can music come from a shattered mind,

What symphony?

When hope is gone what is left?

Broken images from the past,

Filter through my senses,

Dreams lost.

My face remains a granite block,

No window there.

Yet inside I shed hot molten tears,

I am done.

I sit on shingle beside the sea,

Feel the gentle rhythms move,

Massage deep within my soul,

Embrace me.

Hold me gently Mother Nature,

Look on me my loving moon,

Bathe me in your gentle glow,

Support me.

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