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Dear Lord, (Other) by INTRANSIT

what is this winter's chill? Revenge- it calls; I will not rent. Spirit of man is frozen still while mercy fills me I'll not be bent and I am moved if by your will a robust heart with deep pigment and I become spring's daffodil the who I am shall not relent. Gray hairs spark and thrust me forth through many tears that I have cried as I have built this life towards north these chisels worn I leave behind. And once I've passed my deathly port my scroll as long as life is wide unto you I shall report though I've not turned man's tide.

Dovina 22-Aug-05/9:59 AM
The most religious thing I've seen from you. What gives? I Like it a lot.




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