Will All Your Troubles Kill


And as I lay in the shadow of the pine,
Dreaming of worlds unlike yours or mine
I reach for the undergrowth,
And hear church bells lying still--
For the trees themselves alive with wind,
Will all your troubles kill

"Use what's in front of you,"
I heard them say,
"And all your strength of will,"
For the trees themselves alive with wind,
Will all your troubles kill

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