at the well stealing water

They will tell you you that love hurts. They will say this in that dishonest way we pass along bullshit to each other. I will acknowledge my own untrustworthy behavior. The way I do things I know are wrong, that I know are incorrect. I went up into that cloud. I took every step, and was rewarded with principles and tools and judgement. It was that process the communion that taught me my distaste for the shortcut. I simply refuse to let go of your hand. I am breaking it at the wrist. I break it to save you. This is how i stay fit. At the end of your deformed hand.

“It is not love that hurts but the act of loving beyond our selfishness that is uncomfortable.” — — — Moses in the Wild

It was fear. When I returned from the cloud, I was confused. There are new laws to consider. I am not to be an adulterer. I am not to covet my neighbor’s belongings. I am coveting you and that places you in the line of my heart and chokes God from me. If I were to marry you then we would be in the heart line together. There is almost nothing I want more than to believe that I must suffer another 40 years in these sticks. On the side of this desert. Where we found each and went about tending His sheep together. It is my behavior that is untrustworthy. I fear your husband has returned from the front and I must reach out to him. He is your husband. I am to love every man, every one. I am to leave the comforts of us and find that one lost animal. And bring it home to Him. Bring it inside to you. The blessing in it is witnessing you healed. Witnessing your true happy.

I am precisely the one to do it.

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