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“The creative act is not hanging on, but yielding to new creative movement.” -Joseph Campbell

The earth takes me into her.

She revitalizes my body like nothing else can.

Today I visited her.

I sat on her shores and drank her salty water.

I needed her.

Winter has taken it’s harsh tole on my body.

I feel thick, heavy, cold.

I let her breeze waft over and around my skin.

I swallowed her sunsets,

and caressed her skies.

I collected her treasures,

and wrote her poetry on my soul.

I carry the sea in me always.

Calm or stormy.

She is me.