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Soul Bowl Like waves of the ocean the rim, trimed in gold this bowl. Within my soul father's love does so color, Rainbowed with the heaven of earth's master, Gleamed glorious the chosen colors of us all. Brown, the hair beneath thine crown, Yellow, the mellow of the meek, White the holy, the superior host, Purple, the people's plush. Like more colors the power of father so many discuss. Why the fuss, words they speek to defile thy wish, in the midst they proceed. Out of text, the reflex of context. Satan's darkend repulsive reproach repeats. Fresh dawned repentance replentishes righteousness. When in the now and then from begining to end, tied up or trodden down. In every town satan's stormy clouds shadow the son's of man displaying dismay. The child I maybe with father's universal color, revealing my king and queen domination all over. Saved, i'm beloved pure white as a dove. In my soul true love is the fame of life's game as father's bow protects my soul from fright, father's forgiveness' reigns always and forever, son's of man amen! |
Additional Notes:
When you read this picture yourself in a fish bowl with a shark
and the only thing saving you is a clear sheild in the middle.
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