Thursday 13 August 2020

A Spit Amidst The Imagining Of A Deluge

 

From a bridge over former glory

I spat into the bed of a dried up stream

Imagining the torrent 

As if in some dream

But my spit is absorbed

With no difference, it seems

But the parched bed awaits

A deluge to redeem,

And the channels of my prayerless heart

Are also dry, directionless and mean,

Come then and return to purpose

Come then and redeem

Rain then and redeem, I say.

Redeem me, 

Redeem.

Redeem away...



(This one is kind of like, ok then God, surprise me. You're a redeemer, do your stuff then. Redeem away....)

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