Like a Child Picking up an Old Toy

Seeing you on your side, stuck to this rusting strip of metal, I’m reminded of our mortality.

I have a strong digging in me to get it right.

I want to so badly see all the beauty and feel all of the harmony, even in the strife. I pray that God hears me moreso now than ever, as this metaphorical rope tightens it’s hold over me.

I want to breathe like I hope, with a newfound passion for life, a new zest for even the monotony.

I want to see all that is promised in the things that hold no victories, no vision.

I want to look onto these things like a child, picking up an old toy and finding it interesting again.

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