Besieged The Author
Walking down a gravel road,
I met a man who had mirrors in His eyes
and words to explain just what it was I saw in there.
And He had gifts in His hands.
He offered me sight.
He offered me bread.
He offered me water.
He offered me light.
Thankful, I gladly indulged without a second thought as
to who He rally
was.
His rough hands and soft eyes,
they felt like home - a home I hadn't known in years.
And then I saw Him dead,
hung up with nails for things I had done.
Petrified, I stood,
eyes closed,
humbled
to the point of tears.
It will, it will be alright.
He will, He will walk again.
And this time I will be there with Him,
ever thankful.
COMMON!
