Writing is like carving.
Carving out pieces.

Pieces of
The heart of Jesus.

Love in the face of
pain-filled hatred,
hurt breeding hurt in the heart.

Light in the midst of
heavy darkness
thick and roiling clouds in the city.

Hope rising from
from the dust of dreams
cracked and leaking on the ground.

I write to reflect His image.
To the world around me.


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