July 10 by The Running Son
a prayer for pŏems
I publish poems with a twinge or shame. It is me on the page whether I edit or filter, or whether I choose not to publish at all. Every silence and admission rings in my own ears–a reflection of a me, but never precisely the one deep inside, curing and conditioning heart strings. Lord above, grant me strength, and divinely tuned playing. Infuse•all•words•with•Love ❤
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.