Life after Epiphany


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from an age ago…

seasons change

does the sun resent the clouds, when they come out to play?
for the sun needs to vacate its playground in the sky sometimes;
and as it does and the aspect changes,
the sky weeps.

i listened, anticipating the answer, in hope.
anticipation perhaps obscured His response?

will he resent my choice, if i go another way?
no tears, i hope – not him, nor me
nor that tug inside that they oft accompany.

i pray the truth will make us free.

– – – – –

                                (A dusty sketch from Friday, 1 December, 2009)

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