These are just bits i started. and might finish.
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He thought his soul looked more like a snowball than anything. It wasnt gaseous looking. Not a jelloey substance being inside lit white. It wasnt rippling or pulsing. No no. Not his soul. It did not look like how anyone had described it ever before. His soul was crisp. Unsoiled. Perfect and circular. So why was he looking at it? This seemed so unjust to him. Why now? What did he do?
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She often imagined she could fall asleep in God's palm. To rest her head on the pad just below His pointer finger, curl up with his thumb and let the deep gorge of the hand engluf her creating unending security. Tonight her eyes swallowed the black of the room like a drain. She ripped wrinkles into the sheets with her ringed hands, her pulse sent shockwaves through the matress and heaved her stomach. She was nervous for what was to come.
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Father, we typically gather to pray for healing or miracles. Tonight is no different.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
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