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All the world

They are few and far between, those moments of clarity. When they do arrive, I can count my breaths; I can focus on a leaf shivering in the breeze; I can feel the gift that lives in every moment.

Then, when the clarity passes, my moments again become a blur. The world is loud; it scrambles for my attention, pouring all it's got into my eyes, ears, and mind.

And so I rush through the world in distraction, mind crowded with the everything that is nothing.

As for that rare moment when I stare at the sky or watch the rain or stroke a leaf, it is worth all the world.

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