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Patterns in Gray

Gray the day,

Rain dripping from the sky;

Clouds heavy,

Swollen,

Like thoughts.

 

Birds, stark against the gray clouds,

Darting

As if in fear,

Like images

 

In the mind.

Fleet darkling things,

Notions,

Unspoken fears

Of discovery,

 

Of self.

What life is this?

Was this?

Clouds of fear,

Yet faith.

 

Ghosts in the clouds,

Gray as the day;

Indistinguishable

From it:

Lucifer’s legions.

 

Mighty the watchers,

Mighty the hosts

Mighty indeed

The angels

Of God.

 

Swords unsheathed,

The fray is on,

The battle already won;

Gray the day,

But bright the Son


That shines

In heaven’s eye.

A day or two,

A life perhaps,

We wandered from His arms.

 

A slippery slope,

And hard to grasp,

The fears and fantasies

That cloud our eyes

And wrap the world in gray.

 

Thoughts like birds

Flitting in the clouds,

Now black,

Now white,

Now gray.

 

Hard to hold,

Harder yet to see,

Gray thoughts

Lost in gray clouds.

Rationalization.

 

Swords

Clanging and ringing

Invisibly;

Angelic shouts

And screams.

 

People crying

All about us,

At us;

Serenity

Overshadowing disaster

 

In our hearts.

Fiery darts.

Burn?

When we lose

Our focus.

 

Roaring lions

Eat not.

Like Daniel.

Like you.

Like me.


Don’t blink.

Don’t ever blink

Your faith,

Nor lose

That blessed hope.

 

The angels fight

And win;

We lose

And win the day

With them.

 

Pawns we are,

And fools

To have so much,

To hope so much;

So gray

 

We cannot think to see

Our way.

We cannot know

The airways of the fog.

The mist

 

That dampens reason

Darkens hope.

Wounded in the fray

But not killed

Were we.

 

Stray angelic swords,

Flesh wounds,

Oh, those flesh wounds!

Brushed back by a charger,

Knocked flat,

 

Reeling,

Bleeding,

Badly shaken;

Standing

In faith.

 

We blindly pitch forward,

Gray ranks;

Inexorably onward

Wave on wave,

The blind


Are stumbling

Out of the clouds;

Gray thoughts

Like birds emerging

Into Sonlight.

 

Is there?

Balm in Gilead?

Bag balm.

Flesh wounds healing

In balmy faith.

 

Don’t bandage

Hope

In fear of judgment

But clothe with faith

The soul!

 

Faint not, stout heart,

Nor weeping fear, the mind;

Bind up the wound and heal the shame

That dimm’d the heav’nly glow

And turned

 

A denser shade of gray

In our minds.

Light burns away the densest fog

And God shall light our way

To Him.

 

And thus we hope,

And now we pray

The gray to leave behind;

Heaven’s Sonlight ever shining

Ever brighter in our minds.

 

And thus we forward go

Proclaiming;

Shouting, forward go

Exclaiming

His grace.

 

His glory.

 

 

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