15 aug

these days I’ve been writing a great deal more in a small blue book with trees sketched on the cover, and less on the internet.  [also more in a gchat window, than I have in quite awhile.  irony.]

this evening I sat on a small ridge, looking out over numberless trees and a sky shifting perceptibly from pink to slate, as echoes of laughter floated around me.  I moved my lips in prayer, then began to whisper my heart’s depths to One who paints the skies and looks on in delight at my feeble offerings of praise.  He is right here.  The day’s light fades to nothing and the certainty remains.


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