The Calling
In fields of burnished gold,
the sun dips low like a projected dream horizon.
A gentle glow of breath that-glimmers
of hope's holy word,
uttered in reminder in the darkest hour.
"In God, trust".
A beacon of thoughtful provoking light,
is not just love's August power,
it is Lidar excavating, stasis-star activating
a "calling" time,
a culling of heretical designs.
In the silence of the stars,
a settled dust of rebellion is quenched,
order and titles given to those who
held their first loves first estate of many mansions overlooking the stormgates of derision,
the faith of deliverance in the maelstrummed
eddy's of Pride's Vacuum-song,
where there is none beget,
but self induced prisons and dulcet keys of rattled bone.
But in the "Calling" of Christ (Home) we are returned,
turned to be release of wild hearts,
set free to be reborn.
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