Tales of a Secret Rockstar
I'm so bored of little gods, while I'm standing on the edge of something large, while I'm standing here so close to You . . .Wednesday, January 07, 2004
I need a lot of grace. That's not easy for me. That's not even easy for me to admit. I'm not good with grace. I don't know how it works really. I'm kind of a perfectionist. I don't give myself any grace. What is grace?
Grace is the first mountain stream bringing spring's life to a dry creek bed.
Grace is the light in the eyes of a child.
Grace is the shooting star that no one else saw.
Grace is my eyes, turned inside out, away from me.
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