beautiful heathen.
you jump and run like an athlete but your heart doesn’t see its dead! Can you
not feel those wounds that crack and bleed? I see them and want to reach out
my hand to heal your aching bones. But my reach is only so long and it hurts
every time you bite my fingers. Oh God! May He illuminate your path to shine
so brightly on your broken limbs.

Don’t run so headlong and proud into that pit of destruction. you would be safest
here by me I think but that is not the truth. You would be safest in His arms if only
you would fall into them instead of trying to jump into all those fake ones. I can hear
your voice – can you hear your own voice? I can hear your voice – can you hear your
own voice?

My heart does bow itself in humble position because had my eyes not been cleaned and mine heart washed by the blood of my blessed Savior I would have been your partner in crime. I would have been your other half had not my name been called and my feet swept out from under me.

I thought that I was running with the greatest river in history and when He saved me I find that I was standing in a dead and stagnant stream that trickled with horrid water. I feel like I have been transplanted in a beautiful garden, that my weedy nature and bloody thorns have been transformed into a beautiful life form. I was made for this and not for my former self.

For those things have passed away. I live in the already but not yet
and I look forward to the future that is here.

[c] s.b. 3/28/2008
*bucks writings. :many smiles because iced lattes are inspiring.