It has recently come to my attention that raindrops are a dissertation on the joys of life. Ever since that moment of revelation I am succumbed by a palpitation that shakes my heart.

Although I am confronted by many situations I can see that all are a progression towards a boundless joy. On this track of manifestation I am drawn as a machination that shakes their heart.

By the end I will be met by an incarnation of a being that, in agitation, will ask me of my joy. At that place of deliberation I shall delve into my imagination and reply: "It is her heart!

My joy is her heart!"

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