
From nothing, you made
us everything, and
yet we hide, and shy away
erecting manmade walls
that you might not see
we are dust.
But we are dust, and
by your breath
made for glory.
The World weighs
heavy upon shoulders
backs crumbled underfoot
The Flesh claws
sparking desire, calling
so sweetly, purring lustfully.
The Devil
whispers words, to
beguile, to draw
to consolidate our dustiness
entrapped in dirt, our
glory obscured.
So we cling, to
that Cross.
Our finger nails
clutch
where iron nails stung
The cries of
FOOL
of tormented laughs
echo into silence
as Angels sing, and
trumpets sound, as
we reclaim
our dust, for glory.
SJC+
14.III.23