You refer to your life as a story because
You hoped
leafing through this text you’ll find a cohesive thread.
You hoped
the sadness you keep tracing will have a distinctive end
You hoped
that the next chapter will find a way to pick you up
You hoped
the bottom you hit isn’t a ledge from which you drop
You believed
albeit for a short period that you were the author
You believed
unseen, that the Father picked out for you, His daughter
You believed
that these pages were landscapes for you to conquer
You believed
time was cherished, then it revealed the way you wander
You loved
I don’t know why you did but you still managed
You loved
though it seems you subjected it to much damage
You loved
as if that is what made you worth reading
You loved
trying to show that it is worth keeping
You Love
looking at the characters you kept from hurting
You Love
risking reputation despite the risk of the burning
You Love
the un-lonely journey, despite uncertain seasons
You Love
proving life faithful without offering reason
You believe
there’s no need for a sequel when this goodness is eternal
You believe
the greatest riches you received turned out to be paternal
You believe
that the vow you made is sufficient against ill feelings
You believe
the forgiveness you’ve exchanged reproduced healing
You hope
all dialogue and narration will be a welcome intrusion
You hope
you will be pleased to share with us a joyous conclusion
You hope
this all wraps up nicely, hearing you were a dear friend
You hope
pen and eye won’t recognize the end whence you began
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