I think I met You
In the wind of the dancing grass
I think I knew You
As the water cleansed the past
Something is swelling
Inside the dryest root
Your love is the first
Your love is the last
Your hands hold eternity
All of it is a vision
breaking through stained glass
Break the walls
the exterior of my sorrow
Sew me back together
Just as you knitted my heart to be
Love
Love
Love
How I need You
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
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1 comment:
is this God you speak of?
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