Sermon Stories

I am the form  In the skirts of cold, Toes nestled in the lake bed As my pale arms stretch on the murky water, etched by hell And expecting no less   But today The ripples grow without wind, lapping at my jaw Cresting my ears Dancing in rivulets of joy to a cadence of throaty murmurs   And I awaken, Stretch my withered muscles Feel the pop of every brittle joint The thump of my heart fills my chest Hot blood  Rushes my sk...