remains

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Oh how the wind can howl through the canyons.  The sound of it drowns out all else.  The force of it rips your breath from your lungs and threatens to knock you over.  The chill of it dashes through, slamming against your very bones.

And yet, life of all kinds still flourishes.  Roots cling deep within the soil, where all is calm, and hold tight against the trashing wind.  Turmoil reigns above and tranquility below.

The wind will pass as it always does and the flowers will remain.

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