The sky breaks open. Light streams through brilliant and bright. Each ray has an end. Each end moves upon the surface of the earth, the trees, the grass, and sea. Not a soul moves and a second is two and and hour is gone. Shadows fall and lean to reach the ground. Each shadow finds form, yet light is seemingly untamed. Spin the globe and slowly reach the eyes of all, the sun. It is a common thread of all people.
Nice, Mark. We are all baked and browned by the warmth of sun, the love of light. Are we not God's muffins?
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