Poetry

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There is a warm spot
where the Son sits.
Let me find that seat.

His Throne.

There is a window
where the Son is shining.
Let me find that room.

His Insight.

There is a garden
that follows the direction
of the Son.
Let me bloom among those flowers.

His Will.

There is a Son set
that brings hope
because what follows
is the Son rise.

His Ressurection.

H. Stone © 2005

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