September 13, 2013



(To the lost of Maaloula)

Awe as in awful, awe (full) with pure fear.
Pouring in oceans, drowning the dear.
Buildings like waxworks, kissed by the Sun. 
Ashen dust drawing deep into lungs.
Cut down cross fire, from every side.
Here in the half light, where half-truths abide.
Assure your firm foreknown, reveal your troth Bride.
Peal back broken instinct of paper thin (now).
Make present your Kingdom, with gleaming gold prow.
Faint and failing this moment of pain.
Folded deeper and richer, made more than the same.
Truer sure founded, roots as living stone.
Known in the marrow quick blood and white bone.
There is a shore, a new place to call home.

2 Cor 4:17

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