A POEM
Ice in the spirit
Is but frozen tears
And bitterness
Is expectation killed.
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- Karl Keating
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Phoebe,
Gentle handmaid
Of us all,
Who assisted Paul
And others
Of the early church,
Gentle Lord, I love You.
You tiptoe ‘cross my heart.
You sit beside me quietly…
In the beginning A Mind, Eternal. Then
A mind, created.
A sweet Whispering,
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