A soft breeze rustles my blinds. Everyone is quiet. My soul is awake. I carry dreams with my fingers. With so much to do do do, is it possible that it is time to be? And to be. and to be...
It smells like rain. Shut down, oh mind, and retire to the place where worries won't plague you and no one will argue. In the morning grace is brand new, you can get it while it's fresh.
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