Perfect trust

Amputated stumps

Dream of the vigour of their first green shoots

Just like an old ship that waits to put out to sea

To sail past the pounding waves

Beyond the horizon

Toward moon lit nights

Rich and full of deep silence

These dreams look back

As reminders of golden days

That spill into the promise of brighter days

That lay ahead

Patiently waiting for what is to come

While resting quietly in perfect trust

In the One who created

Both the tree and the hull

Which will bud once more

And sail away


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