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if, from pain, meaning is found, then from meaning, art is born.
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by ludensnakes
cool light
washes in,
from cracks
in the dark.
from hands
black with sin,
comes salvation
as a spark.
the soft beacon
of luminance,
the respite from
a chokehold,
sunrays
wash away
the dull pain
with hope-gold.
memories
echo along
melodies
of tenure,
comes-and-goes
of saltwater
bring a sign:
you will endure.
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