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Ps.2 True freedom

Culture: prowl your bland confusion-step, Smoulder acrid rage against, And cry your hollow death refrain, “logic, self, freedom”.

But, we are not chained to isolated emptiness, as you; His limitation gives us flight; together we soar higher and higher. We are not bound to hopeless lust and longing, as you; His cords bind to security, to strength, to love.

Our bondage ridicules your unfettered offence. His laughter roars, our liberty; louder and louder and louder. And with a kiss we tether our very selves to Him. We are captivated. We are free. We die to self. We are alive.

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