Desolation, fog of
defeat, denial….
souls incomplete.
Drained, life blood
’tis a blackened shadow
of unease; a soul doth
weep. Fissure of hope
and peace…a calming release.
Blessed caretaker of recovery
and doubt, heavenly words
thou doth sprout, ” You may
telephone,” treasured words they be;
soul connection of hope
undoubtedly. THE CALL, a
mending of bridges, let not
egos and misfortunes
of life beset thee.
©️PSA 22/6/21.

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