Life proposes pauses;

A distinct monotone

Of mundane and muddled melodies

Missing the distinct, sharp punctuation of the things

You hope for or despise.

A palpable discourse of respite:

Most times, needed but not wanted.

You wait

A lot

Questioning

Life itself at times.

Nights staring into nothing when silence catches on

Because the hustle of the day is done.

Running on fumes, no longer able

To overcome the inertia of your own stubbornness

You listen to the Voices

That have been speaking ever since.

Slow down.

Breathe. 

My Grace is sufficient for you.

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