The soul lifted his feet and walked to meet his maker,
It felt the dirt and filth of the man who degraded him,
over and over and over he forced it to see and feel,
the terror of a child as they were bruised, battered and
violated by the body inhabited, vainly longing for change.
—
God looked at the wretched, broken soul, and weeping
welcomed the soul into heaven with holding and a sad,
glad heart. The soul wept bitter tears of abuse and took
the task to commit to pray for the many tortured souls,
children whose souls are assaulted aggressively daily.
—-
Little thought is given to where we take our souls and
precious moments gladden their hearts but the sullied,
soiled, sanctimonious situations batter these spiritually
based beings against the beauty, pure joy of heaven
from whence they arrived unadulterated, loving, a holy
—–
guide to show us the way to find love and hope. The
children know. It is like a blighting millstone around
their necks too. Souls arrive as a sky filled sunrise to
us and speak gently and kindly leading us to be our
best but some close their minds, block the light, and
–
welcome darkness.
–
Slowly the soul shrivels and hides unable to leave,
like bulls in china shops, we smash the potential of a
loving hope and tread on the broken pieces of each
life we touch or we can celebrate our gifted spirituality,
love its gracious presence, leaning on its goodness.
