John G Evans c 2019

A tall glass of flavorful tea, memories of mine have always enriched me, made me stronger in the early morning, almost fall-like breeze.

A few notes from I Am: The Tiny Mustard Seed:

So, where is home? Home is where the dust cries in a foreign land, as we all shall come to know the bitterness of exile.

And yet, where is this home?

It is inside the mustard seed where only the dying can see.

Transformed by heart –

If we are to poeticize these inkwells with our altruistic art we must become the pen upon this page of forceful doubts.

Only then, and upon a season of Advent shall we come to light this legendary candle of hope.

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