It’s found in silence,
in the slow fall of snowflakes,
the wind brushing between beings,
blowing leaves, whistling.
in the slow fall of snowflakes,
the wind brushing between beings,
blowing leaves, whistling.
It’s found in the strum of strings,
the deep chords that bellow
from the throat.
the deep chords that bellow
from the throat.
It’s found in the green
of trees, their whispers to me.
of trees, their whispers to me.
It’s found in everything.
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