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FEELING RUNS BENEATH MY FINGERS

A RIVER OF THOUGHT, A SHOT OF ENERGY

A RAINBOW OF COLOR

SENSING FLESH ON FLESH

KNEADING AND KNITTING TOGETHER

HEALING OPENLY

CLOSING A WOUND, TO CALM A MIND,

WITH ONLY THE TOUCH OF MY HANDS.

TRUTH, 'TIS DIVINE.

BUT THE PERILS OF THE HEALER DO EXIST

FOR WHEN THAT COLOR FADES

AND THINGS STOP MOVING

AND HEARTS STOP BEATING

AND A FIRE WITHIN IS DOUSED

I SENSE Y EYES DIMMING.

EVEN WITH THE LIGHT FROM MY SKILL

AND HAPPINESS WHICH RECOVERS

YOU NEVER QUITE STOP FEELING

STOP REMEMBERING

THE ONES WHOM YOU LOST

THE ONES WHO GAVE THEIR LIVES

SO THAT YOU AND OTHERS MAY LIVE.

AFTERWARDS THE EXHAUSTION FEELS LIKE...

OPEN HATRED.

A HUNGER LEFT BY STARVATION,

BY TORTURE.

A MEDICINEY FEELING INSIDE YOUR SOUL.

TO SWEAR THAT YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN

TOUCH, FEEL,

THE WAY YOU USED TO

BUT YOU TRULY DELUDE YOURSELF IN THAT SENSE.

FOR THE PAIN OF LOSS...

IS NOT COMPARABLE TO THE GAIN OF LIVING.

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