In the high and low notes of the soul
There is a deep mysterious tone,
That gives the listener ecstasy infinite
As the Arab racer needs a whip naught
...
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Even the heartbeat of the womb are the marching drums to birth and the mother's breath is the wind in the forest. Nature is its own orchestra. Thanks for this poem! !
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Even the heartbeat of the womb are the marching drums to birth and the mother's breath is the wind in the forest. Nature is its own orchestra. Thanks for this poem! !