Fires of mistakes
smolder in such a lonesome fashion.
I admire the festivites from afar.
The beauty of redemption
here to behold:
Smoke rises in perfect rings,
letting a sunbeam
shoot to the heart.
As the flames consume, (our God is a consuming fire, after all)
the heart looks up.
Blinded, he smiles,
"Who needs to see?"
Rising from the burnt flesh that contained him,
the heart looks with perfect sight-
This world is a series of mistakes;
this love he feels
is a ocean, crushing him against a cross
with it's mighty love,
tried and true, never failing.
Everyday,
forevermore,
the heart is crushed by love.
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