Roll Away the Dew A Journey Through Franklin’s Tower

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In the shadow of Franklin’s Tower, bells once rang like morning prayers. They called out to those who listened, to those who wandered, and to those who dreamed of something more. If you plant ice, you’re gonna harvest wind. The truth is, the seeds we sow—our choices, our silences, our actions—they don’t stay buried forever. And the wind? It remembers. There is a rhythm beneath the noise of the world, a pulse that says, if you get confused, just listen to the music play. The music of life doesn’t always come with sheet music. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s thunder. And if the thunder doesn’t get you, then the lightning will. Every breath, every heartbeat, every stumble and every dance—these are the notes that make up our song. Franklin’s Tower is not just a place. It’s a remembering. It’s where you go when you wake up and realize that this moment, this breath, this heartbreak, is all part of the song. Some come to laugh their past away. Some come to make it just one more day. But no one—no one—is here by accident. Not you. Not me. Our journeys are all different. Maybe you’re riding a train into the unknown, pedaling down a dusty road, or leaving footprints in the sand. It’s said that you know this space is getting hot. And maybe it is. But even in the heat, even in the friction, we are being forged. We are being made. There is a place where your story finds its footing, where your voice becomes a bell, and your heart becomes a song. Roll away the dew. Shed the weight. Wash off yesterday. Because when the music plays, we remember that we are not alone. We are not broken. We are not done. So if the song comes your way, don’t ask if you know the steps. Just step in. If you get confused, just listen to the music play. Roll away the dew. A new day is already here.