fire


It’s d a n g e r o u s, playing with F I R E.

“You’ll get b u r n t,” they say. “Stay a w a y,” they say.

But how do you know? How can you tell? Sometimes fire doesn’t look like fire.

They didn’t tell you, did they? Sometimes you don’t feel theĀ flames until they lick at your S O U L.

Pull away, l o v e. It’s not too late. Don’t loose h e a r t; you’ll be okay.

These fresh s c a r s? This P A I N? ItĀ all shall p a s s. A heart can H E A L.

And d a r l i n g, remember: if it wasn’t for second chances… we’d all be A L O N E.

remember

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Hey l o v e, the S U N still shines. And if you were ever certain of anything, be certain of this: it will always be there, every morning, no matter the darkness of night, season in & season out. Ever constant. Perhaps not always direct, not always in plain sight, but ever constant. Why? Because of the unattainable D E P T H S of something called G R A C E.

And l o v e, if you were to ever ask for anything, ask for this: that you would always remember the immeasurable S A C R I F I C E & the irresistible G R A C E that brought you here.

And l o v e, if you were ever to cry over something, cry over this: the humble realization that you would still be walking in darkness, had not the L I G H T brought you down to your knees in repentance.

If you were to ever remember anything, l o v e; I pray that you would R E M E M B E R this. //