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Movement
There's wind inside of me, and it stirs and whirls around in there.
It feels like a flock of birds.
Those birds flap and chirp when that wind picks up; when my soul is moved by my Creator, or by His creations.
We're all star babies.
We're part of this giant flock, hewn together from dust and particles,
And left with this wind breezing through our bones and organs.
We're alive on the inside.
We're alive from the inside out.
May we be stirred always.
May we never bottle that wind.
