Just imagine THAT

This darling writer take us where few have every really gone before.
This gifted person writes: "Time does not exist for Me" speaking of God.
Where does this imagination take us?
To HIS lap, to lean against HIS breast.
To see and be this, takes us to that place of being "swathed in the golden light" of HIS love.
How sweetly this writer open the door to the SECRET GARDEN of HIS essence being
formed in us as we romp barefoot through our place of getting to know us.
George the barefoot player.

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