My child.

Shake depression’s dust from

your travel beaten soul and bathe in

my pure love. Let me pour my healing fragrance

over your wounds and give you rest.

I plucked you from the orphanage

of death and clothed you in the rich threads

of royalty. Everything I have is yours– I withhold

nothing of myself from you.

I have worn your dust, and know your

sin beaten sorrow. I lift your downcast face, to see the

crowning glory of my new day

reflected in the creation of you.