Knock, Knock

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When light knocks upon depression’s door, it sounds like the thunder of Armageddon. She seeks to hide from the helpful intruder. While enshrouded in the cloak of dark, hope and faith make her heart break. Rescue is not words than can be uttered. It must come in the form of love’s aggressor — arms reaching, ears and heart open. Do not demand her demons to surrender. That only gives them more power. But welcome them at your table. Pour some wine and be prepared to talk, cry and soak in silence for hours.


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