The Stream Flows…

I find… pieces of you, everywhere… It’s like finding grains of sand all over your house after coming home from the beach.  The sand that sticks to the walls on the top half of the hourglass, refusing to fall.

I often wish I could just brush them free.  Someday grains of sand won’t make my heart skip a beat.  Someday I’ll find a new beach.  Today I take slow.

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