Let

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Gentle light finds it’s way through through the ancient tree’s arms- as finally, like a Pollock, it falls distorted upon my LA apartment building. The Burbank mountains begin to stretch and spread their arms south and north, ready, come what may. And I sit here, shirtless and still, waiting, and watching as all parts of nature each with its unique voice, acknowledges their creator. And through them he shines.

Let us turn our faces to our creator and let his light fall upon us.

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