I used to mourn my dying
but I’ve learned to live with it
Not my deathly dying
but my lifely demise
my old ways
wicked but savory in the moment
I used to bemoan my loss
of freedom to act out
but I’ve learned to live with it
Days come along
when I long to go back
to the fleshpots of Egypt
Enslaved?
Not even such a thought
In the wilderness I grieve
sometimes
for a false memory
But keeping in mind
my own deception
I’ve learned to live with it
The truth is this
I’m more alive in the wilderness
than I was in captivity
No reason to mourn my dying
when I live in grace

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