I find myself in a parched land–

a wasteland.

Troubled heart, a loneliness overwhelms

tears the only moisture, but quickly evaporate

with arid air.

Can God fill the desert? The void, the gaping hole?

What is left after love, but the desert?

A wasteland of the heart.

Is love eternal or is the desert? Will Love consume the wasted, desolate spaces?

Oh, but what a city that rises on the edge of the desert.

The desolate place is where temptation arises. To bow down to idols within the heart.

“Come back home, to the city of light. There is your refuge.”

I wander the wasted land, seeking water and a guide to lead me out.

I find the cracked rock where water flows, slaking thirst.

A patch of green and a purple desert flower grows.


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