Flipping through the book of my life, its pages glow with the dust of destinies— each line, a whisper of Your will, each tear, a glimmer of Your unseen smile.
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When the sun of joy hid from winter's gaze, I bowed before the frost in reverence— for even the cold carries Your mercy. Beneath that quiet shroud of white, You were nursing the seeds of spring, cradling in silence the flowers yet unborn.
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When the sun of joy hid from winter's gaze, I bowed before the frost in reverence— for even the cold carries Your mercy. Beneath that quiet shroud of white, You were nursing the seeds of spring, cradling in silence the flowers yet unborn.