Flow

Go with my flow.

Carry my flow.

Overflow.

Flow over.

Pour me out.

For you shall be a conduit of my flow.

For in your hand I have placed my flow.

For it is drawn to you.

You can feel it flowing to you, flowing through you.

No longer that which contains, but that which flows.

For what flows to you shall flow from you.

My irrigator.

My source of supply.

My instrument of supply.

The means of supply.

A resource in the driest place.

The well watered garden.

The fountain of supply.

For I have placed my flow in your hand.

For it wells up behind you awaiting the time of release.

Where it flows to is by your hand.

A sprinkle here, a torrent there.

For you shall fill up the dry parched places.

The wells that were dug up in the dry place.

For what you dug up in the dry shall now be filled with the fullness of my flow.

Enter in through the door that flows.

For the golden door that flows, leads to the land that flows.

For I see you looking for the handle, yet how does that which flows get unlocked by a key?

How will you handle it?

How will you open it?

And yet it opens before you now.

My glory reflects upon it.

For it opens before you now.

For that which opens reflects that which was shut up.

For the door that flows leads to the land which flows.

For the one who goes with my flow, opens the fluid door that no one else can.

As the door opens my glory shines on the path ahead.

My glory brings growth, reveals growth, brings forth growth where there was none.