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I
wake up to a life without purpose. Acting a life instead
of living it, it's an easy step to deciding the role has no
meaning. This a sad and dangerous thing, feeling that
it would make no difference whether I were here or not.
It's incorrect too, according to all I've learned to believe.
But at least when I lose track of the joy, forgetting that it
lies in what is given and at hand, in giving, I am still blessed
with the awareness that the fault is in my looking and not in
the thing seen.
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