Morning is greater with its firstborn light and birdsong. Noon is taller, though a moment’s re
Morning is greater with its firstborn light and birdsong. Noon is taller, though a moment’s realm. Evening is ancient and immense, and night’s storied house more huge.But I had no idea. And would have died without a clue, except she began to sing. And I understoodmy soul is a bride enthralled by an unmet groom, or else the groom wholly spoken for, blue in ardor, happy in eternal waiting.I heard her sing and knew I would never hear the truename of each thing until I realized the abysmal ground of all things. Her singing touched that ground in me.support supportfinchlinden.com -- source link
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