Creation of All
By Johann Mcdowell
When the sun rises, it brings with it a certain sound, a blood buzzing which comes to a head in the soul, colorful, awash with the pastels of time, a presaged destiny. We walk, and the sand walks beneath us. We breathe, and all of creation fills with our breath.
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I like to write. So does my wife. Sometimes things get interesting.
Labels: Johann Mcdowell