February 2015
I wrote this poem about my recent brain surgery, and the struggle that I had trusting God through it. I’ve had a very difficult time coming up with a satisfactory title…I’m still not sure that I’m satisfied with this one. Tell me if you have any better ideas! What would you do if the moon...
White linen wraps a broken body, A traitor bought the Son of Man. He who used to reign in glory, Now leaks the blood which stains their hands. The one who took the silver coins, And those who ran away, Accusations lead to empty words, Three nails choke out the light of day. He taught,...

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Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated.

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