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The Early Years

My life was a whir
Of passing days of fleeting nights
Of passions and grief
Propelling my flights

Observing with my eyes
And not my soul
I stumbled through time
To unrighteous goals

Life’s purpose had been lost
A soul being wasted
For no gain had been made
Only desire had been tasted

But life has a way
To restore the spirit
To alter the flight if
One stops to hear it

So Listen to the voice
That comes from within
Follow that call
It comes from Him.


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