Goodmorning, Glory

Do you hear that, do you hear it. It is a hybrid stream of cries and shouts, chants of happiness and the massaging of sorrow. I can control it, I am only an example of manifestation. I am only an example of loving oneself for the well being of your heart, your hurt. This seems all but redundant, but indeed we are in the churning tearing forces of a vicious cycle, a cycle we affectionately love to the last tear, punch, drop and sob. Drop and sob, time has given me so much, age has offered me lessons of leisure and lessons of survival, while God watches propitiously over the course of this historical chapter in the life of his son. If I paint these images so vividly in the form of words, this is but a mere taste of the cinema in which the foundation is being built. I am blessed, and I would love to think that blessings cannot kill.

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