At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
Celebration is the sparkle in the eye of the one who glows. It is the song that plays in the house of freedom. Celebration is the dance of life, it__ the one dancing to the drumbeat of the heart, it__ your birthday cake, it__ you blowing out the trick candles, it__ you delighting in the fire of life.
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Celebration is the sparkle in the eye of the one who glows. It is the song that plays in the house of freedom. Celebration is the dance of life, it__ the one dancing to the drumbeat of the heart, it__ your birthday cake, it__ you blowing out the trick candles, it__ you delighting in the fire of life.
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