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He looks up at the sun
begins to rise and then
fall and then rise again, like the
sky is an eyelid. He looks around
and sees the other monks
running away, the large swath of
them going into the forest.
He turns to his
father, his abbot and the
vision that he has of st. michael and tells
them that he didn’t want
to wake up in the morning, that he knew
it was going to end like this. His father
looks at him with so much compassion,
holds his hand and becomes
voice like an angel, telling
the world that prayers have become fragrance.

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