It’s in the eyes, the depths where

souls swim in pools of

black and white prints,

behind doors locked tight

with faces blurred and names forgotten.

There’s a wall buried deep, within our reach,

a point of no beyond, where denial provides

a path for retreat, or repentance

washing us clean.

Hold fast your position, the image of a

sea dividing with people passing through

safely to the other side.

God is now and forever more

the substance of my praise.

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