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Yggdrasil

The mind has its own mythology
grown from seed in the ashes
of last night's fire,
a forest of branches
to hang baubles on.

I love a man of myth-
not an unlikely man, no Cu Chulainn
or brash white prince,
he is rough, my man,
and rubs me wrong from time to time.
©2007-2009 ~a-random-quigle
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Submitted: December 20, 2007
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