River

I think of the beauty around me; I shed a tear.

A single stream that trickles from the river within.

The soul that flows through this earthly frame.

The river that longs to quench the desolate desert.

The wasteland: our world.

I am dry.

I am thirsty.

I am desolate.

Why does the river flow endlessly around me?

When will it flow through me and refresh this deep thirst?

I am dry.

I am thirsty,

I am desolate.

I am ready.

Ready to be quenched.

Let the river flow and soak me.

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Words of Truth

 

My soul pours out overflowing until the dam breaks.

I don’t know what brings it on.

What the root is.

Breathing?

 

It might be in simple words strung together in whispering truths.

In the realization that I am not where I want to be.

But I am not where I once was.

I am growing.

Living?

 

The oxygen fills my lungs and reminds me yet again I am alive.

My soul flows as I reflect on my past year.

On pain, sorrow, joy.

Desolation?

 

 

After ruin comes to restoration.