The Neverending Pages

I opened the book of blank pages and filled them with words front and back. 

As the books filled with reveries of the ageless child who holds the seeds scattered,  not sown.. 

 Book after book lay within my reach  untitled,   undated,   filled without  knowledge but wisdom to understand. 


Dear Heavenly Father,  guide my right hand and judge the intention of my heart..


Joy and sorrow  , absent of bitterness or blame. 

The Books are written to preserve  and prepare.   With great fear of offending God with my own thoughts,   I do not write until I pray.   I hesitate and wait.

As the spirit moves me i reach for the nearest  book .   Once filled with words   pages remain blank  ready to receive  ,  words  unable to deceive or explain .

I do wonder where  the words go . Only after they return to  speak personally just to the child hidden in my heart,  holding the seed and I continue to sew into the wind. 

Filling the pages again and again.  




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