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When I think of all the people that I have met in my life-
face to face, online,
friends who I have known for years,
some who I only knew for a short time-
I get sentimental, I get emotional,
I feel deeply that the people in my life,
the friends that I have made, who I was drawn to
from the second I first saw them, for whatever reason,
are the most amazing people in the entire world-
the most caring, and inspiring, friends, sisters, brothers,
like-minded, insightful, intelligent, incredible, important,
linch-pins that hold others, relationships, close to their heart,
and they are the best of all the thoughts I think,
and they are the sum of all the most amazing memories I have had.
Having a friend is easy,
being a friend is something that should always feel natural;
having that someone who you can talk to about anything
is what everyone wants,
but not everyone has that special person in their life-
so when you do have that person, like I do,
who you love to reconnect with regularly,
you don’t want what you’ve got to go silent, to go stale,
you want to meet them, to go out with them,
like what they like, and stay up talking to them all night,
be there for them always, and be a friend for life.
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Through the forest; through the trees;
through an opening, to a cornfield;
there, standing tall in the distance, my talisman is revealed.
The instant I see it I immediately race towards it at full-speed-
ever-present and all-around me there is an energy,
an anticipation, a focus, and a need.
The windmill is all that I see; the windmill is all that I know;
not even the waist-high corn of this field
can keep me from where I want to go.
I am like a man possessed: running, leaping,
forging a path where before there was none-
the closer I get, the faster I run;
the higher it towers, the more hypnotized by it I become.
The Windmill, the tower: a majestic memento of ingenuity,
and symbiosis.
A windmill, an artefact: a constant, akin to that of an oasis.
As I stand at the windmills base
looking up at it’s intricate sails,
the windmill’s wheel begins to spin,
as if it were being turned by the gust of a gale.
The clouds above me clear; the windmill’s sails are now still;
the blue sky above me looks so inviting;
I feel as if I am in the presence of an ethereal will.
I stand transfixed; energized, emotional,
protective of what stands before me;
and after what seems like a lifetime of looking, I finally see…
myself, my younger self,
standing at the base of the windmill looking at me from below-
as if I were now the windmill,
and my younger self had come to say hello.