Wine servers it purpose, to sooth and relax.
Sit back and enjoy the simple complexities of life.
Stopping to smell the buttery floral fruity spiceyness of chard oak.
Is that not like life? Filled with so much joy and peace to the point of eruption and yet bound in chard barrel of life's dirtiest hand, and sealed with God's amazing grace.
We are just but ordinary people yet we fight ourselves and others for the sake of individuality. We are ordinary in that we do not need to fight to be extra-ordinary.
We are above and beyond ordinary and yet and still we kill for a bill that has nothing to with who we are or what we can do.
Extra-ordinary, extraordinarily amazing people, hiding behind a mask they were never meant to wear.
We are nothing but crushed people fermented by the air of life and bound in the chared barrels of our existance, sustained by grace.
Isn't it amazing that we can smell like flowers yet grew up in someone else crap.
Have hints of tropical fruit but were mass produced on the side of a mountain with no fruit in sight except for us.
Tastes of honey and lavender, though dipped in sorrow, almost drowning.
A simple grape; what a taste affliction produce, when refined in a barrel that went through the flames, and made it through still strong enough to hold us and refine us in to a beautiful glass of wine.
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