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The allness that is Gaia

In the sacred circle of a Gaia Minute call, we see the allness of mother earth
Her summer that dawns when winter falls
The sun that rises while setting
The winds that know no boundaries
The language that is known to all

There is no north or south, east or west, up or down in space
On earth, each place is at the center

In the eyes of the mother each is unique, identifiable
Her ears attune to the sounds of song or cry
Yielding to our efforts, she sustains our presence
Her arms embrace us all while letting us free
In the heart of the mother we are all
we are one

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