Poetry

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There’s a time between sleeping and waking
Which is precious in the extreme
That moment in which we snuggle back down
Holding on tight to our dream

There’s a time between waking and sleeping
When we can let go of the day
That moment in which we leave all behind
Our souls gently drifting away

To sleep in a way is like dying
To wake is to rise to new birth
With freedom from strife, this pattern of life
Is a gift of both heaven and earth

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