where water laps the sand upon which
you rest. A constellation casting its light
down upon your eyes, removed by space
so distant and dividing. Wind speaks in
tongues so ancient that language forgoes
words, aims straight for the heart of the
soul. Gifts showered on us like torrential
pours, skin inhales the succulent taste of
stimulation,vibration. Each heartbeat a
sunrise of endless gratitude; night and
day prosper in endless harmony. Your
hands touch the water lapping at your
feet. Harmony in creation, life found in
the essence of essential vibrations.
The Creator Has A Master Plan.
The Creator Has A Master Plan.
The Creator Has A Master Plan.
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