CONCEIVABLE NOW



When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.” ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Now.
A hideousness is trying to slay our children,
Inflame fear, crush our hearts and spirits.
What horror rises of such horrid belief?
Now.
Imagine waking to a kindness so colossal
That its head stands above us like a god,
A god that we worshipped and prayed to,
That we saw in the garish house of worship,
Our approval, feverishly vowing to die for it.
Now.
God we gladly give ourselves to upon bent knees,
Crying out to be spared any immense suffering.
What wonder can near such conceivable certainty?
Now.
Love is wonder, peace is stillness,
Forgiveness given, Laughte risen.
Now.
A hideousness is trying to slay our children,
Inflame fear, crush our hearts and spirits.
What horror rises of such horrid belief?
Now.
Imagine waking to a kindness so colossal
That its head stands above us like a god,
A god that we worshipped and prayed to,
That we saw in the garish house of worship,
Our approval, feverishly vowing to die for it.
Now.
God we gladly give ourselves to upon bent knees,
Crying out to be spared any immense suffering.
What wonder can near such conceivable certainty?
Now.
Love is wonder, peace is stillness,
Forgiveness given, Laughte risen.
Now.

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


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