Master,
I yield to You
the back door--
again.
I am tired
of the lurking possibility
of escape,
and even more tired
of having to give it up.
I catch the vista,
now and then,
of this room You've given me
versus the nothing
behind the door, but
sometimes . . .
Can't You do something about it?
Brick it up? Mortar it over?
Undo it?
Because I never want
to escape from
You.
dearest I got goosebumps reading this. it echos perfectly the cry of my own heart. what a good perspective- I never considered it leaving the back door open, but of course it is!
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I'm so glad this blessed you, Christine! <3 U :)
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