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 S avoring sweet silence in the morning,  snuggling into the depths of pillows. My weight shifts in search of continuing my drowsiness. This tousled mane billows in careless comfort; arms tuck themselves closely. Legs twist and tangle sheets, then repose to feel the warmth of sleepy feet contrast insulated cocoon against the calming cool of toes drawing in outer coverings; the stack of soft heaviness, the horizontal rows of feathers and strings multiplied. The rising and falling of ribs slows. These coverings cause eyelids, too, to be weighted down. Rest, a peaceful retaliation against my foes of worry and anxiety that want to pound down the door of my inner sanctuary; my body knows, this form of worship, even when my mind forgets that rest is my duty. My skins and bones dutifully fall short of my demands and in turn my soul lets false expectations be humbled. My body receives loans of life, from one recline to the next, from the giver of breath that feeds the height of conscious activ

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