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standing on the edge of the open field.

i let the wind wreak havoc with my hair. it whips across my eyes, into my mouth, stings my cheeks. it’s hard to fathom this wind is not a separate entity from the wind that tears the clouds and sends them racing across the sky.

the full moon peers from behind shredded sky. i raise my arms. breathe in the dampness and the scent of rain, and night. breathe out.

“the wind blows wherever it pleases. you hear it’s sound but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. so it is with everyone born of the spirit.”

i am born of the spirit. i am born again. i am free.

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