Hey there my Young Arrival,
Oh how nervous our minds can be when they feel like they are losing Him. Some things can wait, but I know you feel lost in the evening of pain. I remain stolen to a world that is failing Him. Maybe this fear we seek is caught between the apathy of the enemy. We feel rushed, rushed behind the beginning to free the end.
Hey there my Young Departure,
Do you feel like your always leaving something behind to search for something new? How silent something can be when it goes quietly into the night. How visible we can be, when we retreat back to the beginning screaming, screaming for something new? Sometimes people search for answers that don't have any questions. Meanings that go on and on with no hope.
It's sweet like rain when it touches your lips. A face caressed in fear, a wing of dead blood. A silhouette of your mind going mad every time it sees the light. The distant hill, hesitant to keep you curious. The land on fire. There is a voice that I always hear. A whisper in a shallow case of fear. Love at the end of the rope. The broken between hope and the lost. He raises his voice to me, like a flower growing out of the sea. "There is hope, there is always hope for you, when you find yourself lost, panicking and out of faith." I will meet you there.
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