POETICAL ME

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 His work
First son would come to be her joy
His work, this man more little boy
Love formed in thought before her womb
Became the home to leave grace groomed

Fingers formed by Hands His scarred
Arms outstretched reached out from stars
To care for son with much relent
To love and keep from Hells intent

Lessons taught along Life's line
Some harsh, some good, keeper of time
Made things so to carve His will
Carved on nooks He'd one day fill

Each moment His without due rest
Became the road, my life's road test
To so endure as His son saved
From darkest nights and wretched ways

Simply put, spelled out in simple terms
His lead would push for all to learn
That Love knows best our heart this day
Knows through work, blood ransom paid



for His work


  





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