Something made me hear this song this morning. These lines kept repeating:

Losing love /Is like a window in your heart/Everybody sees you’re blown apart/Everybody sees the wind blow

The gift (or the blessing, or the luck) is when someone helps find what seems hopelessly lost, spies it through the window, reaches through the shattered pane, then with healing hands reassembles the pieces, then with a word turns the gale into a breeze, and so the song’s refrain vibrates in your humming heart:

I have reason to believe/We all will be received/In Graceland.

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