RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Sitting outside, looking into my mind, finding exhaustive
levels of remembrance there.
A holy place residing quietly within, nourishing the soul,
growing serenely in place.
Outward signs of grief and sadness haven't any space in
the private sanctuary of inner peace.
Contemplation soars on repetitive clouds of solace,
focusing on prayer.
Silence of many ages descending upon me, stirring my quiet
nature in response to God's loving touch.
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