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Cloaked
I am cloaked.
Hidden, concealed.
Safe, I think, yet
noting that the hood obscures my sight, I lose my way.
I am cloaked.
Burdened, heavy.
Tangled in its layers,
my body twists and yields to its weight, like burly branches bent by April snow.
I am cloaked.
Duplicitous and sly.
Like Riding Hood’s companion,
a chameleon who shifts from shade to shade.
I am cloaked.
Weathered, worn,
yet wrapped in dancing sunlight,
a blazing fire melding sorrow, gold.
I am cloaked.
Radiant, alive.
Swathed in all that’s true...
Beauty, Love.
Magic.
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