I do my Father's work
Foraging my dreams from clay
Breathing the breath of life into dirtLove always, Esha
I do my Father's work
Foraging my dreams from clay
Breathing the breath of life into dirt![]() |
| Photo by Ben Mack |
Time to reflect is a wonderful phenomenon. There is no perfect person. No absolute moments of triumph. In battle, the conqueror defeats the conquered but no matter the gains of the victor both sides suffer the loss of causalities. But abundant happiness lives in the wilderness for the lovers of peace.
The terrain of barren land is the desolate stretch that blessed and bitter people walk alone. We live with the prospect of anticipation while dragging our tired soul through moments of shock and disbelief. But the heart is ever wandering when there is a vacancy of love and trust. How do you turn a corner when civil conversation ends? Will you show the same grace and mercy to an enemy that you give to a friend?
Let your pearly whites shine in the brilliance of day. You are the strong tides breaking over sharp rocks. Hope is a thing with feathers and it takes flight every time you give optimism a chance. Even if you believe that it may be returned. Because faith is the belief in the unseen. And when all is said and done it feels better to know that the unblemished Lamb slain for our sins is in charge of everything.
Love always, Esha
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| Photo by Micah Boerma on Pexels.com |
The road is long
The battle is arduous
But despite the journey that lies ahead of us
We all need a real friend
Someone that cares
Wipes away tears
And covers our fears with laughter
We all need someone worthwhile to talk too
And for me
That person is
And has always been you
Love always, Esha
| Photo by Brett Sayles |
Don’t focus on the snares of the enemy. It just means your someone worth fighting. For every battle that’s won there is an opposing side. They attack with lethal precision. Hoping you fall to the waste side. Going after your character. Attempting to eat away at your insides.
Turning reality into fallacy for the purpose of twisted fantasy to create a monster out of you. That’s what haters do. They aim low and watch you sail high. As your swimming with the white doves. Their trying to touch the baby blue sky. But in order to reach you they have to elevate their mind. Pray and fast in overtime in search of the way. The love that was ignored in the past can be found today.
But warmongers get left behind. They are the residue of sadness that blessed souls left to move forward in time. Dust off your sandals and move. Your presence shouldn’t be wasted arguing with fools. But your enemies are people who pretended to be your friends. The truth starts when the fictitious rainbow ends.
Love always, Esha