more. a poem.

more and more i hear

the sound of rifts and

rending people

shouting people clamoring

Cinderalla stepsisters

ripping beads off the broken

Bride

He calls

He weeps for His

defiled

beauty

promised to Him however we

leave her

shattered and shards

pieces of mirror reflecting our own

right

to rightness

or the fine

needle

work of saints

on knees washing

feet

emptying alabastar

adding beads

of pearls once grains of

sand now rounded

pure

by grace

alone

less theology

eschatology

exeggesis

more holy

more holy 

more

HOLY

more child

trusting

in awe

stepping back from the Holy

into the arms

of freedom

faith

more of Thy Kingdom

more of Thy power

more glory

more forever

more amen

This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival on “more.” Be sure to visit them for more and better blogs than this today.

5 thoughts on “more. a poem.

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