Set my face like flint,
Face into the sun,
Don't squint,
Turn towards the wind,
Don't blink,
Slitted eyes, fixed prize,
Don't teeter on the brink,
Face into the sun,
Not bursts, don't run
Just walk till you cant
walk then some more,
Tired calloused feet
Stone hardened floor
Set your face,
Like cooling Iron
Molten no more
Set for Zion
Flinted sharp
Like the prow of a ship
Raised chin, stout lip,
Firm grip, on walking stick,
The belt and sword
Swinging round my hip,
Don't fall
cant slip
Flint faced for the finished race,
Come desert Sun
Come Hurricane
Come avalanche
Come Monsoon rain,
I'm flint-faced
For the finished race
I'm steely eyed
For the final prize
I've set my face
To see grace
In the expression of
My saviours face
Wednesday, 25 March 2015
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