I am waiting,
watching,
seeking answers.
I see God's face,
but cannot read it.
The spirit whispers,
on the wind,
tugs at my heart,
calls to me in the night,
but what does it say?
How can God know me best,
when his face is shrouded in mystery,
when her voice is but a whisper,
both comfortingly familiar,
and foriegn to my ear?
How can I write,
God's vision on a tablet,
when I doubt my eyes to see it?
How can I speak for God,
when I question what I hear?
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