"When the winds of God blow..."*

I walked a stony path,stumbling, sliding, bumbling blindly,clumsy-footed, vacant-eyed,all murky thoughts within.

I climbed a granite pinnacle,earth-rooted, star-flung,and reached out to God in prayer.A great wind rose, gleaning as it camethe exhilarating songs of the wilderness—irresistible harmony.

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Why I don't drink
July 2, 1984
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