On days when the winter rain hits my skin like tiny pellets of ice, and the sky is the darkest gray it can be. And while clouds floats across the sky like islands of smoke from God’s bonfire, and every creature seek refuge in that warm place buried in their soul, a place where you barricade yourself from the wrath of winter.Look out your window and watch mother nature punish mankind, or is she trying to freeze out the unnatural thoughts we sometime harvest. I close my eyes and pretend. I can feel the sun tickle my skin, feel the trade winds rush warm against my face as i sail away on my man made island.
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Warm Your soul
