Description
In the turning of this body, there is no beginning, no end. Each whirl is a whisper of eternal longing. My head is lifted to the sky, My heart rests in the hands of God. Not to see— but to arrive.
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Provenance
In the turning of this body, there is no beginning, no end. Each whirl is a whisper of eternal longing. My head is lifted to the sky, My heart rests in the hands of God. Not to see— but to arrive.
