I see the things that cannot be seen, being an individual human being, that’s living, and grieving over the sowing of cataracts liberally.  There is nobody willing to be no body, that we may know bodily, wisdom, understanding and discernment.  Too busy preaching sermons living an opposing advertisement, promoting stuff that’s gratifying, but not satisfying, and offers many different colors to take life and die it… What’s the purpose, what’s the motivation?  Where’s the hurting, where’s the enslavement?  Shackles, and bandages like wrist bands and bungee cords, cords bonding us to metaphors of internal sores, placing us in need of healing powers by the score…

**

~The Wordsmith

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