As things seem to go downhill in a frantic spiral
Wondering if You will ever reveal Yourself in a miraculous style
Not the faint glimpses that tomorrow will discard
A visitation that even the lost could not disregard
And then it happened on the roadside in the heat
A tire shredded, wires bared lacking in ability, no air to keep
My honest gesture to an innocent sixteen year old in fear for her life
Gentleness in my voice trying to assure her and relieve her of the strife
Fixed and on the road again, not knowing names
This could have been my mind playing a strange game
Hoping that I was entertaining one of Your crew
Lord tell me, Was That You?
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Glen, good question. I wonder how often we have had angelic encounters - unbeknown to us?? On a technical note: you need to discard one of the 'discards'. Try and find a word that rhymes -to keep the rhythm going.