I’m going to retreat;
It’s the only way forward.
Sometimes the back
Is the way to the front.

Jesus calls us o’er the tumult
In a voice we scarcely know
As daily screams
And even laughter
Twist, distort the Way
They’d go.

Four Thousand Twenty

(not that I’m counting)

I’ll shut the rest out.

It wasn’t my choice,

But then, yeah,
It totally was.

And is.

See you on Sunday.

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