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Amidst the hills where vineyards climb,
A ghostly truck, eroded by time.
Grapes pulse red with a sacred glow,
Life’s essence flows, an ancient show.
Clouds descend from the midnight sea,
Whispering truths of eternity.
Each vine, a bridge from soil to sky,
Where God and cosmos intertwine, sigh.
The truck stands firm, a relic of grace,
Guarding this ethereal space.
Rust and spirit, quietly seen,
Merged with whispers in fields of green.
Here, shadows and pastels meet,
Where heaven and earth find retreat.
A vineyard temple, spirit-spun,
Life’s pulse in vines and stars as one.
Today is all that you have.Know that and you are safe.