there is rhythm in the reckoning
of soul and body to it’s maker
designer of fortune and fate
I am the daughter of
a wayward father
lost in the translation of relation
we are one with the furthest point
of self same poetic expression spoken
into existence by prophetic utterances
and I am, we are
at the beginning again
circled ‘round and ‘round the question
is there truth in the utterances of men
or politics all
in all and through all, save one
and in Him only truth
truth sustained by mortal men
is fragile, and fallible
perfection in grace alone
provokes the soul to live
and flesh to breathe
bold and beautiful blindness
thrust into me like a
dagger
sing vibrancy into my voice
solidify my understanding
rewire my hardwired thinking
help me to begin again
loving is the act of learning
and learning the act of submission
to thoughts greater than those of one’s self
begin again with me
in this quiet absence
birthing substance from silence
fashion me new wings of understanding
from the debris of dissension
and we too shall be free
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