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It went that way. It did - the way a spring begins. Softly breaking through the earth, unassuming and gentle, as it finds the path of least resistance, the spring becomes a brook. I feel a current building Slow. Sure. Is it merely the lay of the land? That defines our journey. No, but the physics of existence plays its part in our cosmic encounter. We pass under bridges, and through valleys where the sun cannot touch. A prologue is never long enough for the climax avoids its reach. But humbled by the force We tumble, then flow - along. What should feel clumsy instead feels graceful.
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