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I have gone marking the atlas of your body. In you, behind you, timid, driven by thirst. Stories to tell you on the shore of evening,. Sad and gentle doll, so that you should not be sad. A swan, a tree, something far away and happy. The season of grapes, the ripe and fruitful season. I who lived in a harbor from which I loved you. The solitude crossed with dream and with silence.

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I am attempting to disarm the sceptic from belief that this is some religious jaw. This site is about reasoning discourse and the logic of God. We are singing this song in choir this Sunday.

Kyra Evans-Schultz is a Freelance Copywriter based out of Toronto.