It is winter and as I write, I am looking out the window at the life of this world, as I burn my myrrh. I say life but it is life that is dormant, waiting for spring and a time of renewal.
It is winter and as I write, I am looking out the window at the life of this world, as I burn my myrrh. I say life but it is life that is dormant, waiting for spring and a time of renewal.