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Ophelia musings

Marquette Ophelia Sculpture, Michael Talbot Ophelia weeded, lovely, distance-bound, beauty. Rise, Ophelia- fight free yourself from those drench-ed garments, weighted down by insults, by sorrow,      by the promise of what could have been. Ophelia, Stay.  But do not be mermaid-like awhile instead, Stand. Put down your burdens and down your feet- seek the earthy bottom, where the soil and your soul are still, and be. Be. Ophelia, be! And in being, Oh, Ophelia- the life that you will see, stretched in front of you- that is,    that was-       a perhaps will meet you in the struggle and take your wrinkled hand to cross the barren river of your heart. Ophelia, the tortured mind of Hamlet need not define the drier path that lies ahead- The dictations of a father spoiled, over bearing,    over bothersome,       over presented, In departure- does not need to strain the once lovely that was truth- but drown-ed by his words. Ophelia, Oh. If you only knew the whole of who you are, if you could o

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