It Was His All the Time
By Mark Edgemon


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It Was His All the Time
By Mark Edgemon

The fellow ponders and wonders, he marvels and he waits;
Seeking what he does not understand, what he wants to know.
He cries, he aches, where is my place; what is my purpose!
He waits his life away.
For it is not, the vehement struggle for Truth that has worn him down.
It is not the searching, the knocking, the asking, the pounding
That depletes his energies; that tires his strength; strains his faith.
It is the holding onto his control of his space and time;
His resistance to opening up - that has wearied his existence.

The Truth was his all the time. He had to let go to receive it!

The End

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