It's been a long time since I picked up my pen.
It's been too long since I opened my heart.
To the world.
Because you know us sensitive types.
The way we bleed.
The way we see everyone's pain.
The whole world's need.
Sometimes I close my eyes.
Imagine a field of wild flowers.
And I spin my wild self in it.
Turn my face up and laugh for hours.
And in my mind He sees me.
Picks me a bouquet of blue.
He touches my cheek
And laughs loud too.
Then we sit together.
He and I in that field.
He points me to the cross.
And I yield.
And so it comes again to this...