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You’re like an old familiar place…,
Sometimes like a sweet familiar sip.
I know where to go when the mountains tick,
Because I keep running to you—
I don’t want to do it anymore…

Let me strengthen these feeble knees for the narrow path.
Perchance I’ll find this gift of Self: Joy, Faith, Hope and Love—
Like Christ be this well that promise never to run dry—
But I can’t if I only keep running back to you—
Same old stories that keep me from my greatest truths

(c) Isaac Parbey