A prophet’s surrender.One child’s messagescrawled into sands, whereblood became heavierthan everything carried.A mother recovers. Her eyes, no longerbawling for crippled landsthat her child uncovered.A world, ahead. Scarsdrawn into weathered hands.For eyes, that peeredthrough thorns, into skiessharing light like a moon,light like noon. For a heart,one that sunk beneath,before ascending above.He took his messageto be his

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