San bernardino,
There's a hole in my heart but I'm not gonna stop pouring liquid in it. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't exist. It's there. Beating. I can't muffle the pangs. I'm not always going to fill it with appropriate things, either. Yet, Everyday I spend watching the sunrise over pages stained with prayers and caffeine, that whole seems to find sustenance. Healing nutrients, of which cannot be found in the physical landscape of humankind. When I pray, a river of scripture threads my soul, depositing fabric to heal this heart.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment