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a voice crying out in the postmodern wilderness

The Song

Hear this hymn
Solemn notes like offerings
Are you not moved?
My throat is dry
But I’ll try

Lord, hear my prayer.

I’ve my flute at hand
Let it spring your feet
Animate resurrected bones
I thought you’d do it
If I merely blew it

Lord, hear my prayer.

My hideous choreography
Begs for benevolence
And control
I don’t know
How this’ll go

Lord, hear my prayer.

My melodies a dusty spine
Between alpha and omega bookends
A treatise of asking
Would you please mourn
As you bear my scorn?

Lord, hear my prayer.

There is trumpet blast
At once, at last
Beyond this broken glass
Not for manipulation
For glorification

Lord, I surrender.

The Cost

Roads of Broken Altars