Unknown Life

Water pelting on my palms,
Reflexive waterfall.
My soul, my eyes,
My tears in His bottle.
His tears pepper my hands.
Like the joy
I begged to be filled with,
I begged cessation.
I cannot hold
My Master’s beautiful tears.
My body can’t withstand His delight.
I question my testament
As His witness.
Yet, is this question selfish?
I close my eyes,
And feel the unendingness,
The sighs and dryness
Of calloused winces.
Would that I could cry,
But the river has run dry.
His coal fire has my lips
Searching the dark world
For tinder and flint.
Tender lips of mine,
Crack and bleed.
Leaving a trail
Of the Truth behind me
That thirsty souls
Dare not quench.
A liquid described, ordained
Both intimate and precious.
My tears now sound,
Not as drops
But veil-rending screams.
I hear you Creation,
I hear hurting people
I hear you Savior,
Your words from so long ago.
An ancient song–
One of things set right.
Pelting water
Soothes my blood
Inside this tent
But my lips
My lips
So long,
So cooled and dying,
Are ignited.
I close my eyes,
Remembering the warmth
Of the afternoon sun
Gently touching my skin
As the frigid breeze
Tickled my face,
Sweeping over
The air aswirl
With friendly gold and frosty silver.
How not unlike the soul inside,
Feeling the unobtainable warmth of
The Spring of resurrection
But swept over snuffed
By the glacial song of death on
Hell’s barren cold brimstone.

 

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