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Arts
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Topic: Salvation
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I stare hopelessly at the ceiling, waiting for the golden splashes of sunlight to drip down upon me. I stare longingly at the ceiling, waiting for the drops of honey to rain down upon me--but there are no golden rays of life this morning. There will only be pale, weeping moments of light to filter in through the window this morning. There will only be lifeless moments of wonder. Should I wake? Or let them pour through me, taking me to where they lay?
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