Minted Tue, 05 Nov 2024 16:57:24 GMT
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The city never sleeps, its heart laid bare,
Endless roads that weave through whispered prayer.
Above, the sky spills blessings, soft and wide,
A troubled place, yet in grace, it abides.
Endless roads that weave through whispered prayer.
Above, the sky spills blessings, soft and wide,
A troubled place, yet in grace, it abides.
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@colborn
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