a poem
Senses and Thoughts
6/4/08
Shirt of crisp white linen
Lays gently rolled against his flesh,
Clean soothing scents drift out
Hitting her nostrils afresh
Sturdy exterior
Filled with hope, faith, and Praise
When walls crumble to the frame
As the floor itself caves
The Story told,
Is how we’re found
Even though
We’re walking proud
Melting into life
The Son a source all His own
With vision blurred though light abundant
Evidence presented, mind blown
The Story told,
Is how we’re found
Even though
We’re walking proud
An echo shouting through the mist
Reaching crescendos never fixed
In life apparent it passes over
Before the chance is finally missed
Brief moment in totality
Reading lines of harsh reality
Holding tightly to the Sin
Refusing His entrance In
The Story told,
Is how we’re found
Even though
We’re walking proud
Never over, late, or under
Causing.
Turning.
Trimming.
Waiting.
Purpose lifts to His anointed
Breathe of All though reason doubted
Gather waters in which to paint
Life, light, and love
In those He remakes
The Story told,
Is how we’re found
Even though
We’re walking proud
Eyes open to watch
The linen’s fair sit
Nostrils aware
Of the scents that drift