Those bitter and cursed opiates, for pain, then, your life no longer sane, the business you had, evaporated, a shimmering promise dissipated, your employees gone too, can't punch the clock anymore for you, when you fell down, into depths of debt, lost good renown, living in an addiction of a treacherous grip, wrecking on seashore rocks of a once righted ship. We sent a framed print of a painting of Christ holding up a limp young man in a purple t-shirt and jeans in His arms, rescuing him from life's harms, it was delivered to your door, you don't respond anymore, yet, when you fell down in desperation, He's been there in cherishing anticipation, to raise you up from deprivation. ~