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No Regrets/No Sweat

Surfing the Waves Life Sprayed Out the Hose


For my muse is stranded in the desert searching for water.
I cannot create if she is dying in a grainy ocean of fire.
She has been taken, beaten, and thrown into a pit of white walls.
But God has not left her forsaken, for a piece a coal he has placed with her.
He whispers to her “Paint for him, splash my universe on the white walls of his mind. So that maybe he can find hope in his muse, you, and give Me the glory through his writing.”

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