In rested hope it seems
Amiss to rise on tattered dreams
Too high the galewind lifts
The heart's long drop in silted drifts
And yet the tats recall
O the glory, the sweet sad beauty of the fall
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ep·ex·e·ge·sis / ˌ e- ˌ pek-sə- ˈ jē-səs/ n. ( pl. -ses /- ˌ sēz/ ) the addition of words to clarify meaning. -
I wrote the bit about the tree at a praise and worship deal. Brent wanted to go because his favorite worship leaders were going to be leadi... -
Who hopes for what he already has?
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