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The wind, my dear, blows fiercely through the door tonight. The windows whistle eerie sounds of destruction. Here is she, wrestling her way through a shamal.
The tongue has no bone, but is strong enough to break a heart, competing, makes the heart murmur, ‘She is just a Tuna Swimming with Sharks, when she was small she was cute, as she grows she loses her charm and service is the rent you pay for living’
Sand layers, her coat, on everything and everywhere, storms at night like these are mostly rare.
If, and only if, at her own will to be or do, then we shall call her obedient to unite, if nature roars as two forces long intertwine, then we do exist.
For you, my Great Nations, Imagine what it is to be suffocated and burned alive with false hope and then you will understand what it is to weather-the-storm to shelter her peoples.
For the moment though cozy in bed, the wind that blows knocks, haunts me.
After the shamal, comes the rain, and after the rain, comes the cold, extending its final stay.
But just as surely as IS,
Love conquers all, autumn leaves fall,
Winter leaves spring and spring leads summer.
Will She Unite?
Changes II – The Gathering
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