This morning I am the tree outside this windowThen I am this very window itself
I saw myself in the puffy clouds today
And heard my own whisper in the wind
When I was the anger in that far argument
And I was all the walking in that summer park
The trees were me, the streets were me!
I was the rain and grass and leaves
And in each person, there were my own aspects
And so tonight, even this rebel mind suspects
That God is me!
Janice
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