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8:34 a.m. - Tuesday, Feb. 18, 2014
Drifting mists
Drifting mists of yesteryear cloud my vision but I see them finally and although they lived once, they are not real. They lived then not now. Oh that I could meditate like the wise and be free to be only here now at will. Yet little by little a habit is formed. I shall learn.

 

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