Farmers bend low in fields that they don't own. All sweat and work and hunger. As they see you pass by they call you angel.
The bishop looks out of his cathedral windows, thinking about his sermon. As he sees you pass by he calls you mud.
There is a group of girls making their own counter cathedral out of the wind that blows through the meadow. As they see you pass by they call you sister.
The forest reaches out to the starry sky. As She reaches out to you She calls you hero.
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