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Beautiful Country




Beautiful country; 
where the downed trees begin to take the shape of men.
Here, I drive in the countryside with no care for where I head, 
as I can think of nothing but where I have been.


Beautiful memory; 
where every time I blink 
I find your eyes flashing

as if burned into the backs of my lids. 


Beautiful sound; 
where right before I sleep there is 
in my mind the echo of your smile—

like when first I’m to hear a call for prayer
in near darkness, and open my eyes to light.


My Grace, you sharing this life with me
makes far too beautiful this country
and far too comfortable the night.

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