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ABOUT: Forward, always forward I push in the direction of the small voice. Days and nights I travel across oceans, through deserts and over mountains until I arrive at a clearing bathed in moonlight. In the clearing is but a mere girl sitting on the stump of a long dead tree. She is a girl with her hair wild about her head, a black kimono hugging her body with a tie loose about her hips. Quietly, as I watch, her lips move as the whispers of poetry slip from her mouth to be carried on the wind. Excerpt from "Whispers of Poetry" by Sahib Alpha
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