Seedlings of me, who I used to be
Have washed away with the leaves on the sea
To be seen in clips and phrases
And felt at the edge of memory
A sweet taste for these parched lips
I take these hands, these fingertips
And do my day’s work
Unraveling, undone
It is time to take what I have won?
Traveling from cloud to cloud
Is not my way to live
I am destined for something else
I have to trust in Him
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Submission Name: Daily
