Fall from Grace
We are All Fallen Angels
Awaiting our Replacement Wings Home
Broken Angels awaiting repairs
Living fractured Lives Under the stairs
Broken Rib Compositions.
Melted Molten Sun burnt Icarus no longer flying high. You should never laugh at the Sun.
Who are the Guardians for the Ministers of Peace? Where and when will they appear? Is there no shoulder for we who have offered our shoulders wet with tears? We seek our Lighthouse out of the storm.
Like you I too am lost. Wandering 40 years in the Wilderness. Every day looking for manna from Heaven. I’m No Prophet, Messiah or Savior. Only a fractured fragmented human. I am only a mirage in the merciless sun of endless desert.
My best friends are the birds and beasts of the field.
Save your sermons. No sweet sounding incantations. Searching for the Root of Conversation. Do not weep for the lost. For I await the baptism of dirt.
The Queen of Heaven Welcomes Me Home.
New International Version (NIV)
5 “If you have raced with men on foot
and they have worn you out,
how can you compete with horses?
If you stumble in safe country,
how will you manage in the thickets by[b] the Jordan?