2018

I don’t know if years mean anything to me anymore, collectively speaking. Like the vapor/smoke mentioned in Ecclesiastes, I feel I am passing quickly through most days. I don’t dwell like I used to on much, and I am not as troubled as I once was. Credit to such peace be to the Prince of Peace, Christ Jesus. Though more often than not I am tired I find I have the strength given to me to get through each day, and like a shadow lengthening ever so slightly so as to not be perceived, a year has passed. Grace in light of everything, as I pass from what waking hours I am blessed with to a sleep I have longed for since my youth, showing me a kindness in years I never thought I would live through.

Writing As Of Late