Glorious Saturday, long would I hold thee. Tight would I embrace thee. Till like a water balloon my grubby hands rupture thee and spill thy insides out upon the used up ground. Oh Saturday if only thou couldst last. . .

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Three Days

I. Death loomed large the great triumphant and eagerly its maw opened up for Jesus. II. Death slept well in silent sureness snoring sound on bones three days since eating Jesus. III. Death woke shocked, a guard embarrassed snapped like iron bars. Jesus walked away…triumphant. – – – Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash

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…– Silence is a word, a world separated from the source that gives its pulsing veins the life to joy inside its God. – Silence is a grave. a tomb, a stony slab of quiet. Come to stay forever in the night: the pulsing vain-ness of a life lived outside its Lord. – – – […]

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