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Devotions, Poetry
I don’t know a lot, much less understand enough My only discoveries are Matrushkas of questions And like cells, they multiply, faster than I can hold So I must rely on Your voice for wise revelations Of which of the infinite paths to walk securely down, Of which open doors to shut, which to boldly enter And to define the comings and goings of my day That I may never stray from Your love’s center For as my namesake once prayed in a poem, “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me!” I experience this loving care in Your disciplines Creating in me the capacity to live miraculously Blessed is man that Your love for him is so great That second and seventh chances are not beyond You And with all my faults, with all my fears and doubts They all melt away as I stand here in worship of You #db
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He rarely saw the city swept like this Prepared for black limousines of import Holding people here but for a moment While daily residents enjoy none spent They must be important, he thought That my world must stop for them Even as I wait for the promises to me To come to pass, to happen, to be Is it our victory if so few of us win? Why must I pay for what I don’t get? Can I call it mine when I have no part? How can I hope with a broken heart? As he watched their tail lights fade away He found himself still dirty, still hungry Left by the passing of a beautiful parade Realizing it was yet another masquerade #db
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