what does it look like?
this thing called "stillness"
that my soul longs --even aches for?
this thing I unconsciously arrange for
this thing I am supposed to BE
so that I can know God
is God
the more I reach for it
the more elusive and fragile it becomes
I chase after it
like a delicate soap bubble
floating and lifting on a breeeze
but the moment I think I might actually hold it
it's gone
words (with exception of quotes within the collage) & images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013
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