Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I am his resting place

A place where he can rest. A place where he can enjoy the fruit of his labor. The fragrance. The Taste. The fountain. It is all his work and now he can delight. I am his favorite place. Others can enjoy his work in me from the outside only....when the wind blows. But he enjoys me from the inside. Past the locked gate. He holds the key.

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