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Rusty Broadspear

Nervous anxiety, apprehension, tense,

The morrow’s weaknesses prolong.

So oft I’ve visited this Achilles' heel

And repeatedly proven wrong.

So close to Jesus, here in this time,

And to stand in His Court so soon.

Forgive me my forgetfulness,

Ahead, troubled days lie strewn.

Craving the embrace of fellow man,

Misguided but so strong.

Elusive emotions, naive notions,

In a World where I don’t belong.

People must see me for what I am

If I am to stay alive.

But lo, they touch the surface.

Such thorny quandary to survive.

Renewing faith so many times,

The Lord calmly takes our hand

And leads us into morrows

Unforeseen, unexpected, unplanned.

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