I keep losing my masks,
The pretty and patterned ones, The ones I purchased for myself, I keep losing them; I am not a forgetful person. As a poet, this feels like an easy metaphor, That the masks remaining in my pockets Are the simple white ones I got for free, The ones fulfilling their purpose with humility. I keep losing my masks. You keep reminding me: Grace is a gift and not earned, Service is the heart of the king, Simplicity in faith is what you ask of me. Comments are closed.
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AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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