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The Pendulum
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Cry not my dearest son, cry not as your tears are like thorns to my heart piercing right through h it, weakening me. Come home; run on to my open arms let will hold you tight, make you warm; bring all your heart’s burdens at my feet fears of today, yesterday and tomorrow and I will carry them for you onwards as non but you I made in my image for I loved you from time and will till end. Let me be your carrier, refuge and strength; the rock where you stand unshaken, bread that feeds your hungry soul and waters that quench your thirst.


My child :: The Father’s love letter 1 ::