Grounding

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I will become the master of my spirit
The chancellor of my thoughts
The comforter to my feelings
The safe dwelling for my soul
I will divine in the sacredness of my body
My existence I’ll hold dear
And then no tarrying wind
Will inspire the faintest fit of fear
For I will be a great oak
With yew-like roots
That cement my being
I will be sturdy when shaken
I will be brave while doubtful
I will approach while dispersing
I will be alive while dying
I will be in essence
The beautiful craftsmanship
Of change renewing
I will be cyclical like the moon’s waning
I will encompass the universal will
Of receptive gratuity
And I will achieve dominion
Over the sand under my footing

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