Stars burn tiny holes in the fabric of the night and I exhale, the nerves leaving me into the bottle we passed around.
Stars burn tiny holes in the fabric of the night and I exhale, the nerves leaving me into the bottle we passed around.
As I dust off and discard old relics, they come out—anger, pain, betrayal, the remnants of broken sobs and screaming howls.
The gift is hidden in the exodus—freedom, spacious wandering, dreaming past all I’ve known. Bigger plans, endless creativity, closer to Him, blockages dissolving. I run to meet You. I am ready.