Dreamscapes

I dreamt of the wind curling its tempest fingers through my hair, my feet entangled in the strands of tall grass. My bare skin was kissed by the cool mist. The earth, full and wet, gave way to my probing fingers. The smell of the deep, dark soil surfaced in plumes, as if the earth was breathing.

In that well of darkness, I planted a seed.

– Astral Moonbeam

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