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Friday, September 25, 2015

Yom Kippur

My love, in My eyes,
Is the apex of beauty.
My people are perfect
Like the cries of a child
Never a fall
From which it doesn't recover.
Not a single blemish
That I can't brush aside.
It always looks tall
From the top of My shoulders.
Calm and collected
As it's held in My arms.
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