Friday, August 22, 2008


Foretold by the Prophet,
He comes.
Through tears and pain,
He comes.

From a sea of glass and fire
Orbiting a sacred star
In robes of red
With pointed hood
He comes to change;
To set aright.

With an angry, wizened face
He comes to straighten crooked paths.
Who can bear his fiery presence?
Who can hear his angry voice?

My heart suspended, eyes o'erflow
Then he sees me and he knows;
Knee joints buckle, backbone pours,
My tongue is loosed and I confess.

Then he sleeps while
I watch, crying.
My heart resumes,
My trial, recessed.

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