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talking to myself

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Letting go and letting God,

Often said,


Seldom however followed.

Holding tightly to oneself,

To what is known firmly till death;

Afraid to let go

Fearful of what will follow.

Walls strong and high,

A prison of ones own making,


Though barbed wired enclosed.

Who would I be?

Or what would I become,

If the wire was cut

And the walls came down?

Is freedom so frightening,

So dangerous,

That the hell known

Preferred to being free?

Torn between here and there,

Upon the cross stretched,

The pain remains unremitting

Until resurrection.

Looking upon Christ on the cross,

It is my own soul I see,

The pain of the world

Endured by infinite love.

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