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Comments about Isaac Winspear
Breathe, Breathe, and Breathe.
The frolicsome trees freed in the forest sway,
breathing the air we inhale in a constant rhythm.
Soaring and synced they follow and obey,
as grace overflows throughout their system.
Breathe, breathe, and breathe.
The new-born baby cries her first breath,
the mother cries for baring the pain.
Her love will extend from birth until death,
as does God's love which stays the same.
But our lives express a perpetual rhythm,
where many bare hate, some encompass love.
For eternal harmony, the portrait of ...