poems senseless

Through the red

He was passing

through a storm

or red dust.

He couldn’t see much;

his speed cut short.

He didn’t stop.

Through the red,

he crawled,

with closed eyes

but open heart.

And one day

when red gave way

to white,

to the truth,

he stood

like a winner

with a soul

that shined

of freedom

and smelled

of God.

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