Christ Our Light
The church is silent, dark and still, With emptiness that’s soon to fill. The altar is graced with lilies white, A pure and most refreshing sight. – The time has come; we turn to see…
Month: April 2015
Stabbed by Joy: Ode to the Return of the Prodigal Color, Come Springtime
Longed, pined, Wept, died - ‘Waited’ is too Weak a word. Wouldn’t come. (Couldn’t come?) Never mind. Feeling done. Wistful windows Desperate doors Shut and trampled (Evermore?) Lookit here, Little light! Maybe…