I’m bunkered down and waiting out the night. the last of the perfume has finally dried. the house lays silent with every heart at rest, while Mine violently pounds against My chest.
I’m bunkered down and waiting out tonight. this, just one more meal before goodbyes. the house is solemn but no one understands. the final hours slipping through our grasp.
For the joy set before Me, I will endure. (I hear the cry from creation each night.)
My blood seems to know there are souls to atone. it gives with no concern for its own and will not stop until every drop is spilled.
