to a distant shore, the dock we stand upon
is unchained and we are disorientated with sorrow.
Our compass, our base of orientation is lost;
we are adrift, for a time, until sorrow turns warm
with memories, and the external gives way to the internal.
We are without him, but he is within us,
flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone.
He has a steady hand. Our hands, in due course,
must and will be unclenched from the sequential;
our hearts treasure and secure the eternal.
Our Heavenly Father is ever vigilant and willing to
hold our hand through the valley of the shadow, until...
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
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