Pulse

red-berries

Crimson, hope has heartbeat yet,

Holds it own as mockers fret;

Lifeblood of this winter hour,

Hope’s perception is its power.

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Known

canyon trail

 

Be still, my heart, in safety wait

For all that’s good from heaven’s gate;

Serene, beat soft in tender tone –

With every cadence, you are known.

~

Thank you, Paul, for the reminder that I am seen and known!