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Now I'm so
blessed to write the words,
That other people read,
The words that help them find their way,
The words that they may need,
To find the strength to carry on,
Or see the way they are,
Perhaps to change the way they live,
Or wish upon a star.
And I'm so
blessed to say the things,
That I so need to say,
To pick those up who've fallen down,
And lead them on their way,
To help them find their place in life,
To show they have a friend,
Who wants the very best for them,
On whom they can depend.
Now I can paint a
summer scene,
Recite a funny tale,
Or speak about the love of God,
The One who never fails,
And I can tell of tragedy,
Or awful strife and pain,
And make it sound like it's my own,
As if I wore the chain.
But though I write
of many things,
The thing that counts the most,
Is what they do with what they read,
Of all the things I post,
For in the end, it's what they choose,
To discard or believe,
That makes or breaks the ones they are,
Through truths that they receive.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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