Why am I tilling hard, sweat running down my body like a waterfall and yet no one looks at me.
I am digging a well that everyone will drink from and yet no one is coming to help me.
I feel left out and all alone but that is the old fleshy me.
This me now will enforce my right on the storehouse of joy within me, to support me in the journey forward.
No matter how many times I dig or how many times my well gets snatched from me. I will still keep on digging because my Rehoboth is not far from me.
It doesn't matter the cross I am carrying, what matters most is the glory that is set before me.
Though I may not see the water in the desert, I won't turn back to Egypt.
Between me and the promised land are many giants but I still move on.
I may fall down a seven times but remember I still have a rising within me.
Down casted but not cast down, left out but not left alone because in all things I am more than a conqueror, still moving on.
