How many white pages remain blank?
Ink, less applied,
. an empty space.
Quiet and inkless.
Wisdom left aside.
Abandoned as worthless?
This divorce between mind and matter.
No longer weaving together;
. leaving what was woven
. to yesterday’s empty praise.
Worthiness splattered over the blue and white walls of false applause.
Oppressed by the easy choice of scroll, repeat and ignore.
Condolences distributed for dignity,
. shattered, then gathered up, then strapped to the service
. of insincerity.
Pinned, posted, paraded;
. contributions constantly measured against sterilized pixels.
Beauty soaked and shivering;
. beauty left drifting;
. beauty become hostage;
. lost, gagged and beaten.
It’s pain become high-priced entertainment footage.
Beauty longing for its pain to be known,
When from ashes, beauty rises with new strength to carry its own
Deep within, the Word moves and lifts the injured,
beyond its cage,
Beauty freed, breathes life onto the page.
No longer vacant, this paper wraps itself around wounded words
Under God, clear vision.
In Jesus Christ, one commission.
Through His Spirit, the death of oblivion.
‘…I will not leave you as orphans’