When the mist of loss envelops us like a damp shroud,
and hope disappears from sight,
we hold in memory the sight of the sun.
Above the gloom its light is waiting to burst through.
Sometimes a glimpse is just enough.
and hope disappears from sight,
we hold in memory the sight of the sun.
Above the gloom its light is waiting to burst through.
Sometimes a glimpse is just enough.
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