It is quiet. Too quiet. I hear my thoughts far too well. I cannot see a glimmer here. I've entered into the wood that none would choose to be, but where many find themselves. It is the place of heartache and longings unfulfilled."I am here. . ."
What was that? Are we not alone when we are in the wood? For in my shattered state it feels so and I find myself questioning the truths I once held strong. What dear truth it most certainly would be if He is near the brokenhearted . . . even in the wood.
Artwork: East of the Sun © Kay Nielson
http://nielsen.artpassions.net/
the pics you choose are apt and just awesome!!!
ReplyDeleteIt's funny how sometimes the pictures and words just come together and fit my emotions at the moment perfectly.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading it.. :)