Sonorous little holiday ache

If there were ever a day to be still and allow the sonar of the soul to pick up those signals deep in the caverns under the oceans that rest on top of a prior version of Earth, to lay out some righteous sails to give the winds of shattered wounds a purpose, to sit with the ache that is sometimes ache and sometimes a grand divine spindle of the path that I believe Jesus took to get here, littered with lips and sweat and a gnostic fervor that has kept his name going all these centuries, if there’s ever a time simply to allow everything a moment to speak in every bit of terrain, tonight is it. ¬†Dump a burden, cut loose a forgiveness, be as tactfully honest as possible for the next twenty four hours or squeezing a wound a bit and see what kind of carnival falls out of it. ¬†Whatever everyone does I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, or if Christmas isn’t your bag of yams, whatever holiday you celebrate or have invented for yourself;

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