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in the fallow season,
between every breath,
the empty watchful space,
following one heartbeat and waiting
expectantly,
hopefully,
for the next,
the glory of God shimmers
too quick for all but the prayerful
and the children
to behold
in the fallow season,
between every breath,
the empty watchful space,
following one heartbeat and waiting
expectantly,
hopefully,
for the next,
the glory of God shimmers
too quick for all but the prayerful
and the children
to behold
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