Where He Lurks With Truth

This is a work in progress. It’s my take on a meditation I had at Christmas. 

Is it beauty you seek
Shiny and sleek,
Fine and meek
Light floods
The Alabaster jars in ivory halls
Bejeweling perfect, plastered walls.

Slight, light, white chimes fly away in the ethereal air.
Too light for me see. Too soft for me to hear.

I cannot find Him there.

Do you look away
From fire and brash
Desire unabashed
Darkness births
Stealthy joy and silenced rage
Exploding in darkened alleys and underways

Crashing, gnashing, bashing chords that breaks the ground.
Too much for you to take. I can breathe the truth in their sound.

I am told He will find me here.

Lips find my crazy
Hands caress my rage
Tears wash away my dirty
Blood unlocks my cage

Here we all are
screaming and bleeding
ragged and raging
crying and lying
biding our time until an easier day.

We wait to find Him here.

Truth cannot fit in Alabaster Jars.
Truth does not fly on ethereal air.

What need you of Him, if you are there?


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