The memory of a dream.

I remember those days. 

They are  like the memory of a dream I had forever ago.

They brush my heart like the ever so soft butterfly wing.

So slight and brief as the winds blow it onward. 

And I wait here, silent and still, 

holding tight to the memory, longing for its return, 

while I watch the clouds roll in.

 And I fear the delicate encounter  is no match for the storms that lie ahead.  

Thus, my heart sinks as the beauty slips through my fingertips, 

and I am left  wondering if it will ever return.  

Will it ever stay?  

Was it just a dream?  

Declaration of The Armor of God

I hold these truths to be self-evident

That  The Spirit  of  Truth  opens our eyes to

 the Gospel of Peace,  where

 we can find  Salvation  and have 

Faith  that we are protected by 

the  Righteousness  of 

Jesus Christ alone.