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Missing Abounds

Mysterious longing,
and missing abounds.
Days of wanting
pass into
The dreams of night,
carrying me
to the angels,
carrying me
to you.
In the light of the Heavens
I can see the depth of your soul,
the beauty,
the tenderness,
the strength,
and the mysterious longing
finds me again.
My heart pounds,
but I will my mind
to be patient,
yet my soul remains
in angst,
and missing abounds.
I wake to the day,
lit with the light of God,
still the missing abounds.
Day slides into night
once more,
and as the moon rises,
like my longing,
again, the missing abounds,
the missing abounds,
always, the missing
abounds.

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