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The embers from
breakfast on the beach
still pop and flicker.
The fishing boat floats,
secured
safely to shore,
nets draped over the bow.
The morning sun's
still
warming up, as
waves roll beneath
a long-greening hull.
I nap with Jesus
at the
stern, one arm
around my shoulder,
one hand's fingers
combing my hair,
calming me.
I rest my weary head
upon
His chest, I hear
His heart beating steady
deep inside.
My hands clutch
the hem
of His cloak,
accepting healing,
never wanting
to let it ever go.
Where I go when
the night's sea's been
far too much.
My now rest
in the here, before
the last cast,
my taste of
eternity.
John 21:1-14
John 13:23-25
Luke 8:43-47
Mark 10:15
See this poem @ His Newsman
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