motes dance in sunshine as the curtains pulled
like butterfly wings fluttering
like stars in sleepy eyes
like a dandelion puff dissipating in the wind
contrary to the sepia filters that cover the world with lies
the candor of life unvarnished dusty and bedraggled in the light
shines with the beauty of broken things
the aching triumph of flight with broken wings
the authenticity from which love springs
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