I rise. Again. And again. Not as the morning birdwhose song springsto sudden glorious lifeat the dawning of the light,but as the sun who touches the horizonwith tender fingertipsbefore reaching open arms across the skyto embrace another dayto weather the stormsto stand tall and breathe fireand then to descend into restuntil it's time to rise again. And againI rise.
-L.R. Knost
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