There are no great things. Only small things done with great love.
December 12, 2009
The Ocean.
Sometimes when it is raining and everything is gray, the ocean looks like it is being tickled. Each wave laughs in little chuckles. Other times, like today, the ocean just seems morose. Every wave is a sigh and each raindrop adds onto its burden. Maybe it just depends on the eye of the beholder.
And though the pain is an ocean Tossing us around, around, around You have calmed greater waters Higher mountains have come down
1 comment:
Beautiful writing
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