My celestial heritage makes my poor connection with my fellow man somewhat more palatable. Lord, save me from my private sins. The ones only You know about. In an alluvial dream of glittering scales and madness, my backstroke will not be enough to get to the haughty shore. My circumstances are humble, my virtues stoned on my mother’s lawn and unsure how to shame themselves next. Please throw me your love soaked lifeline of blood and grace, pull me to a tranquil rest I have not earned. In Jesus’ Name I pray, Amen.
Miniature Moon 