The child.
Resting humbly, not from exhaustion but from smiling, dreaming and living.
This pause is framed in poetic assurance that the playful past will repeat. I sing.
I traced her with my lens. I covered her in darkness, then in folded rest she brought forth light.
Her shadows are not dark; contrarily, her shadows are softened light. Don’t judge.
A portrait?
Did I take a photo or did I respond to her dream with a reverent click.
She whispered into the face of a dragon. She drew her sword while standing on the back of a caterpillar.
This child. This pose. This resting place of light.
Come to this place without reaching and without action but with intention to be filled again in order to dream bigger.
A prayer or a pose? You choose.
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