Poetry

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When I think,
"Father I need more!"
I fall to my knees,
I can feel the floor;
the soft carpet,
the alter's cushion,
In my heart,
the Holy Spirit's pushin'.

Sweat beads on my forehead,
I raise my hands.
My mouth begans to move,
forming words I do not
understand

I feel in my spirit
a ray of light,
shooting from my
body, into the
night.

The Holy Spirit is
taking my message
to the Crystal Throne
The dark canopy of
unclean spirits is
blown.

They are blown
apart trying to
contain the light,
trying to deflect it
somewhere into
the night.

As the light
leaves the earth,
space is pierced,
It is bypassed.
time and dimensions,
mere paper barriers
to the sharp knife
of light.

It arrives at the Throne,
where it is poured
until it is gone,
into the golden incense
bowl.

There it rises in smoke,
gazed upon and drawn
into the nostrils of the
Lamb.

The fire in His eyes
blazes higher as He
turns to the Father
and says, "MY BROTHER
WANTS TO TALK WITH
YOU." Then He smiles.

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