The Always Magic
Seed pod promises
on sticks to come
from the unblemished highest sky
Some in groups
some as one
most just brimming to become
Sticks with strains of pain
no longer holding on
no longer forever to remain
Seven the magic number
count it anywhere you want
breathe the freedom in the new stick font
the magic of time
the magic of no more want
the magic that awaits when nothing seems too late
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