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#dryness
I catch glimpses and pieces of a story I need to be a part of A word or an image will hit a particular spot in my heart and strangely resound Ideas skip through my head that suddenly click. I come alive I bolt upright "Yes!" but then it is gone.  Upon closer examination, nothing was there. I don't even know what brought me to this train of thought in the first place. A second ago it felt very important. I shake myself off and try to fall back asleep.
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
Resonate
air turns to water and dirt turns to mud as my feet walk along the broken floor I turn my eyes downward my mouth opens to speak but only a broken cough is let out words I can not form to give justice to this pain of letting go the rain slows and the clouds shatter in the sun my eyes blinded by the sound of light and I for once find the words to say with eyes closed and heart beating the tear, my friend the tear, sheds from my eye and is with me as I say what my God wants to hear that which I cry out with a broken voice my heart whispers what I say this that the canyon echoes the sad sound of my beauty which waits to be released so that I can say You are my God! You love me! You are with me always! You are always yearning for my heart! You are my protector! and though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for You are with me oh my God!
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Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
This Canyon will Echo My Voice
Wet season becomes dry But dryness is not permanent; It's a test. And when one embrace the vision, There will be a provision Unto him, due to his higher calling. There is a revival An awakening of the soul There, justice shall submerge And it shall be a payback time. For to where a revelation lies, There will be power and inspiration And the keys to the multitudes: Faith, prayer and obedience.
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Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Season
It no longer exists. The wind; a passing gale sweeps my laurels. The desert is filled, too many my voice. Origin, a return to birth. A sword of blazing fire, winged halts me. Where are you Eden? I look and look, the desert is filled with voices too many, which is mine or do i have any? The sun no weeps, I sing. Myself, I find, thick of leaves I carry, it sings no longer green. Winged fire sword ablaze, use I, leaves dry. Outstretched, brown, my arms, fail to sky afire. Feet my burns, I no walk longer. Stiff, I root my tree to flower. Fragrant white flowers, settle. Pray I to you, of hope I joy. Bring life to water, Frame of sky Bring, Abba, Father. (Paolo Jerome D. Cristobal - February 1, 2011)
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Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
Garden: Eviction