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Throw me roses through the flames

Call to me before I cast off at the bottom of the well.
Throw me roses and small leather pouches of almonds and dates.
Write songs about my dark journey and the bright points in between,  the wells of strange and wonderful places along my cold river.
Listen closely by the fire when I return with tales of sweet silent oceans and gushing caves where the water sounds like the music of the stars or stare deeply into the flames with your own dream.
Throw me the roses and almonds from your dream.
I will pull them from the flames.

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About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

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