With the hard bristle brush
I take to my flesh...
A flower
sitting on the side of the road...
I will never fall through the stations again.
The panels of vibrant salvation...
The crucifix
is lodged like a stick in our eyes...
I dropped into to the desperate dogma of a prayer.
Knees buckled on that ancient cathedral floor...
As I have traveled through life
telling the difference was quite an experience...
This morning I was questioned about a golden cross...
Dangling from a silver laced chain loosely necked...
Stones set down with seven hundred years accrued
are o’ertaken by trees and newer dogma...
Oh ruler of all worlds
I plead and pray for another...
How is your soul today?
Have you accepted Christ...
Jesus was a Carpenter
Wood and Nails His trade...
My heart beat's a faithful song
once covered by my sin...