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Apr 2017
Stillness...
From which all movement comes.
A sense of connectedness,
Deep in practice.
Not sleep...
But a sibling none the less.
Both a leaving,
A sense of going home.
To where we were before.
Where we ruturn.
Once our light passes the final veil.
Beneath my willow weeping
Written by
Beneath my willow weeping  Az
(Az)   
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