Sometimes it’s the quiet that senses you moving , in the getting there that often hurts, causes me to squirm. I fill the spaces at every turn until I am blocked in. With nothing to distract me from myself, what would you have me learn ?

Sometimes disappointment is a gift and loneliness a best friend, here I find you after evading you for days, maybe weeks . Refine me, God. I’m all spilled out, fill me up again.