Tears With Pride When I think of the goodness of Jesus AND ALL He has done for me my soul cries out, with tears that I thought were lost, but has come once again, in another form, that counsels to not grieve the Holy Spirit, but make the Word your daily consumption. RISE UP and become strong because along with the Holy Spirit cometh power. No matter how much I forgive, my tears remind me I'll never forget. They don't rub my past in my face, but utter,"you have made it through the storms..." And not to forget, a year in tribulation of thorns. If through Poetic Pride I was truly reborn, then why are the wounds still open and torn? Can I still say a rose is still a rose? No, Christ is the vine and I am the branch? I can't beat this thing,life, alone because weeping will last from night to dawn. See, there is something else that I desire, not a rekindled fire or ice that cools my thirst. Yet, I yearn for a sublime dynasty that would fulfill my spiritual needs through rebirth.