Abstract Thoughts

You Found Me You found me. To be found implies first being lost. Yes, I was lost but You found me. Buried beneath debts I could never afford, grief draped over me like borrowed clothes, hope gone, faith thin, roots torn from the soil. Still You found me. To be found implies searching. Yes, You searched. From the heights to the depths, from heaven down to earth, You called my name in the valley of death and walked it alone. In Your search for me, You found three nails and a wooden post. Convinced I was worthless, I cast my lot with pigs. I slept in mud, ate dirt, knelt beneath the feet of a worldly master who never knew my name. You searched for me in low places. You left the Glory of...

She wrote pages and pages and pages about the wonders she saw in his eyes, that mischievous glint in them , she wrote about his expressions and his words, she wrote about her perception of his emotions , she loved watching him gift the world with his presence and in the midst of her scribbling endlessly about all that he was and all that he is she realized that she wrote a book about his abstract being , the epitome of what it was to not just exist but live in every single way a human could possibly live. She wrote a book about all the little wonders that he never saw but she wishes that he one day will. And maybe, just maybe if he ever skims through her pages he might see the man that she...