Search me not, for dust is what you’ll find.
Divinely-made, but dust remains, from what
An image once contained in flesh and blood.
Search me some, for likeness fair – a face
To nameless fear – still stays inside.
A place to hide abides within, amid
The Me, the small-fall character once full,
Rife with life and love and piety.
So look a little and when You see,
Look, see, not specks of worthless dirt
But grasping hands, to apprehend a breeze
To liven dust: revitalizing grace.
………And find, not ore or dross to be refined,
………But something rare:…..a soul laid bare
To mother-love, who hearing words
Of harsh complaint and spiteful sound
Applies her poultice, mercy, to my wound.
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Just think about Vincent van Gogh, who only sold one painting in his lifetime. How did he keep going? Because of the support of his brother, Theo. And now over 900 exceptional Vincent van Gogh paintings are famous worldwide.
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As you read this, we’re hard at work on new content. Like Vincent, we’re trying to create something unique. Hope-filled, independent journalism feels just as urgent and just as unlikely as van Gogh’s bold brushstrokes. We need readers like you who believe in this work, and who provide us with the resources to do it. Enable us to pursue stories of renewal: