A gentle breeze wafts through the torrential wind and rain of fierce proportions, unnoticed due to the enormity of the storm surrounding the calm. In the presence of unsurmountable waves of derision and blasts of chaos blows the Breath of God, softly whispered against the gale, bringing all the elements into sujection with three small words: "Peace be Still." Often in the night seasons, the still small voice speaks to our dilemna. Seek the Zephyr at Twilight.
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