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Mar 2016
Out in space on the other side of the earth
Where the world of water  blocks out the sun
You look outward to see the stars burn bright
Without earth's atmosphere, they don't flicker
They shine bright and strong
And the total darkness calls, God calling to your heart
While the Milky Way is a band of white leading to where?
Perhaps back to the garden
Here on earth, between these ears, where the battle of the soul rages
And the *disease of conceit grips you
With two hands, by the shirt you will try to run
You run away in any which direction
Or maybe you just give in and sit in that ****
While a legion of devil brethren whispers in your ear
The Hounds of Hell, they're not satisfied with a biscuit shaped like a bone
They want to gnaw your bones to pulp
They lift their legs and **** on you and you stand there shaking
Shaking like the leaves on the trees
And you know that your only hope is to bow your head
And get down on bended knee
There where you are carried away to the Cross
And from the dirt, you look up to the figure crucified
That paid the price, the God-Man sent to fight the battle for you
All you had need to do was ask.
Go to your closet and in the darkness of that small room
With its four walls within arms reach
And with all its old ghosts still there, permeating your pores
Let your spirit pray, pray as your tears roll down to your breast
Pray, 'till your eyes puff red. Pray to be saved, rather than not
As you have been the Devil's play toy for so long
Choose the way of faith and instruction in the way
For it is that instruction which gives you freedom
God will not just move on being sure of another soul He knows wants saving
God has time for all'  He calls it grace, the innocent child we are inside
Knows this Grace Is stronger than that thoughtless sinner that we had become
This piece is about 20 years old. I think of it tonight as I'm going to A Name Day celebration for my friend that we lost four months ago. His Wife is calling it Dude Day. Dude was and is a good way to describe Dave.

*disease of conceit   -Bob Dylan
Irving MacPherson
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