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A feel of warmth in this place.
In winter air, a scent of harvest.
No form of prayer is needed,
When by sudden grace attended.
Naturally, we fall from grace.
Mere humans, we forget what light
Led us, lonely, to this place.


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Added: 1 Apr 2002 | Last Read: 8 Sep 2008 2:20 AM | Viewed: 2398 times

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