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The Gift

Hand me the world she said.
Okay, he said. 

And he adorned her with stones, and metals
and light, and fire and flowers.
And breathed onto her the scent of 
meadow and sky, ocean and fresh earth.

And she wore the world that he had given her.
And she thought of him. 

The stones reminded her of his depth and substance.
The metals of his strength,
the chains of his flexibility.
The light was just like his inner light.
The fire as devastating and complete as his power.
And the flowers...
The flowers remidned her of a 6 year old little boy,
who once offered her one.

She breathed in the smells of life and love and creation...
And it was good.

And she rested.