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Fleeting glance,
Floating fear,
Tremoured emotions,
Avanlache endeared.

Realisation of His love,
my heart mutters numb,
her smouldering wick of life,
may burst forth bright in flame.

Confusion of the whipping wind,
Stormy clouds rushing round.
Replay of the victors fate,
but seasons dawn and seasons dim.

Apparent by all earthly wise,
Jesus was the doomed,
Yet surely as the dusk borns the night,
a morning to will dawn.

Soiled, wearied, toiled, torn,
the rushing roar devours.
So helpless as I am but pray,
I turn control to Him.

Blown away toward the breezy cove,
His wind of love afresh,
I have not anything to try,
but pray He calms the storm.