All the stories
Talk about the phoenix
Rising from the ashes
So I’ve been grasping at these black specks
Of my past
That keep crumbling into smaller pieces
The more I touch them.
Then the wind of your Spirit
Blows in
Catches the ashes in my hands
And sweeps them out of my reach.
Why do you bemoan
This newfound freedom, oh my soul?
The God who spoke
Creation into existence
Now has room
To speak.
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