The canyon bleeds, then deepens and darkens ... A sliver of white moon in the east. Thin Light spills into the gorge and the river sings an ancient song. At the edge of shadow, night: dark stone, pine scent, water, cascading Light.
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Something of supreme rightness Lies at the heart of Life... Like a star or a single white rose Sufficient in Itself... Yet It reaches everywhere Whispering Itself.