The sun momentarily goldened the far shore, grooming it as a starlet. Those are ancient hills over there, seen the “Let there be…”. The same as the Mighty Tennessee, been here since the conception of earth, right there, nobly crowned, “Water”. There are longings in one’s heart, primal, blood born, Spirit glimpses into the darkness of the eternal past. These awakenings require greatness given, earned, awarded, sharp as lighting’s edge. One need lie on the forest slope, smell the ancient scent of the beginning, buried in time to Eden. One “must be born again!” or one will never be.
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