my idea of God is not a divine idea. it has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence? - cs lewis
staring at the pieces in front of me and i can't make sense of it. i feel lied to. cheated. i miss his voice, his hands. i wouldn't go back (there's no place far enough) but heaven knows i can't stay here.
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