THY TRUE SELF

The man walked on the promenade recounting events he had read.

There was a lady:
Leftovers to gather
Provide ye now for thyself and mother;
Not for long 
Thy redeemer in the midst of thee
Thy covering tucked again in place
​
Then there was that man:
He's a grown adult. He can speak for himself, his parents said. Howbeit he could now see? From birth, images not beheld but with one encounter all under the heavens, visible

The docking of the boat, the docking of the encumbrance.
Now goeth ye to all ten cities and declare publicly about much goodness shown thee. For ye are up from thy former sitting position.

Did he read right about the stretching out? Appeareth the man in question, ability limited but with a word, his true self doth appear. 

How gracious was the man at the well, he recalled reading. A conversation like none other. Mercy    in operation expressed and witnessed. Begat one anew to tell the story.

A quint endowment. 

Really, truly, perhaps in his life too a story similar to what he’d read would ring true.

His true identity the open book revealeth and he reflecteth on gazing.