Monday, January 9, 2012

Manna Memories

Where springs well up and overflow,
we found great love.

Where trees bend low,
gracefully a river slides bend to bend,
we walked hand in hand.

Kneeling on stones,
we prayed as one,
the sea piled up and parted,
obeying a silent wind.

Sometimes a pillar of fire.

Sometimes a dark cloud.

We fed on manna in the morning.

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