.

My working theory grinds out notes only the grateful find.

It’s the imprints on paper uncovered by shading;

.        The treasure once buried, now delivered up by a storm

Just as a surgeon who in order to heal, opens old wounds.

Here in their significance, the pain that mining pans couldn’t sift,

God has moved.

.

Like a solitary lamp.

It’s light wavering to and fro,

 as it’s carried carefree over a dark chasm by its jovial lamp-keeper.

.       There is little elegance,

.       Just complete confidence.

.               Even in his apparent clumsiness

.               He shows no sway in his perseverance.

.

Thus I’m told we’re firmly embraced

.       Our acts answered by God’s act of grace;

.       The costly charitas of Christus;

.       The rousing rise of His magnum opus.

.

The dangerous unsealed road between then and now,

.   is a delay between a hurting and mended heart;

.   between a bewildered knowing, renewed mind and fresh start.

.

Why sell a soliloquy of sorrow for cheap sympathy,

.   when its rightful place is deep within the joy of a costly symphony?

---

(©RL2017)

‘The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.’

(Psalm 34:18-19, ESV)