Reading between the lines is where we find God. Not the things that tell us about, the signs that point, the black bound bibles bleating. The living are never subject to pen and ink, a mortal tomb of fence and clocks. It is between the lines like windows on a summer field, the people play with God. The lines, a staff awaiting notes for pitch and rhyme our song to sing. The living praise of those who watch and tend the lines. (You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Jhn. 5.39)
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