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The Rave |
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When they hear of love they choke with laughterPreferring something tangible and real Something one could touch and feel Someone not around the morning after
Or when they see the quiet simple things They scarcely interrupt their frantic pace Being spun by envy’s super-large embrace Seeking, what the jack-pot never brings
The raving clamour of the day and night Drowns out the still small voice, the what, the why, the who the precious thing that only we can do the candle to be lit, the inextinguishable light
Now, as then, God speaks through inward fire A voice as quiet, compelling, as a lovely choir.
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