johnaugusth
It doesn't matter much who told me. What mattered at the time was that it was true, that regardless of all the times I'd heard it before and never understood, this time it was true. And I knew it. I knew it absolutely.
Sometimes she sees it as they do. Sometimes her tears take the depths and pour the secrets onto her pillow. But it doesn't know. It didn't see. She wants to die.
It's as if the fires are too hot to stop. It feels like the death that consumes this world will rage. But I know, deeper than the reality of what I can now see, there is One who is preparing me for battle. I'll be strong because of His might. In Him I hope. In Him I wait.
Why is she here? Who told her to come? And from where? It has been too long, my heart has broken down. And now, as I stand on the edge and look to my death, she returns. I'll die. Will I see God?
It's broken down and old. Its hair is matted to the bed of the truck, and as the tires screech around the next corner he'll slam again into the sidewall. He's been sick for 4 years. He'll die today. Who will he see?