What you have not done is without error. What you have not said is beyond contradiction. What you understand of God was yesterday. Today a bicycle waits, chained to a bench. The success of this afternoon’s nap is the dream of lifting seven boxes, your week, sealed with clear tape. They stack, three to a column, with the seventh like a capstone. What you do not know they contain. Copyright © 2014 by Michael Chitwood. Used with permission of the author. |
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