deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Cave
I work hard.
My muscles become strings
Once attached to thoughts
which had caught them as they flew.
Now wound tightly together
Laces in an old shoe.
For this reason
... in a deep, deep well of many,
Worship becomes fuel,
Ignition begets:
My heart on fire.
A first love vertically.
His peace that speaks as it walks,
In a voice that does not always come
In the strong wind
In the fire
In the earthquake
But in the mouth of the cave that is still
quiet secret
And it shatters chaos with its hush
and aligns my heart to His truth.
My muscles become strings
Once attached to thoughts
which had caught them as they flew.
Now wound tightly together
Laces in an old shoe.
For this reason
... in a deep, deep well of many,
Worship becomes fuel,
Ignition begets:
My heart on fire.
A first love vertically.
His peace that speaks as it walks,
In a voice that does not always come
In the strong wind
In the fire
In the earthquake
But in the mouth of the cave that is still
quiet secret
And it shatters chaos with its hush
and aligns my heart to His truth.
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