Saturday, October 31, 2009

Freedom's Sound

A blanketed window fell
after I stepped into a space of grace
Never asking why, this wasn't my wish
but I had decided to be here with you God

Who was fanning the furnace
while You and I stood within

speckled shades, they were wearing, ash, crescent, glasses
orange and yellow sparks and white light burning away the dross

How precious it is to me that I did not ask
to receive your grace and favor

What a precious place to be. Transparent. Hated. Free.

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