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*Editor’s Note: This poem is part of a series—head here to read more.

It is time to honour that.

Do not let yourself wither away by binding yourself to what you are not and not meant to be.

Your body is a garden of blossoming love.

Let the seasons of emotions flow through it, hitting your back bone.

It is time to take your hands off your eyes and your gaze away from your so-called flaws,

which adorn your bones like ornaments.

The universe gave up stellar pieces of itself to chisel your existence.

It is time to honour that.

~