The Drum of the Celt

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Sink into the skin you see,
my body naught but instrumentals that breathe.

The vibrations of my heartstrings play along
the banks of rivers and among the cypress trees.

Feet always dancing, and hands, sweeping along air!
Hair in rhythm crown and spinning round to

a drumming sound wanting nothing then to
leave the ground and sail into the musical sky.

I keep this beating dirt in my breasts,
and hold it close like my precious pounding lullaby.

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