Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Anonymous Guest Author

Once again I post those words that spilled from my pencil from a genius other than my own. I have no idea how or why this happens of late but perhaps someday God will make this clear.  These are the words clearly of a man and is remarkably different from my own style. It bewilders me even to the point of confused (almost) discomfort. I suppose this is merely something God would have me learn in this manner at this time. One reader has suggested I write a poem in reply. Possible. Stay tuned. 

My love, I speak how God allows
Though wishing I could hold you tight
My gratitude, though, knows no bounds
And all my soul feels filled with light

For having this sweet window close
Into your ear I whisper love
And plead you know I love you most
My angel, yea, my purest dove. 

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