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brad-pietrygaPoems
Stephen, awake from your sleep There is still business to attend. It has been long since the world has put you to sleep And longer still since you were made to attend The stiff-necked meetings which denied the Holy Spirit Any sort of hold over Death. You were not chosen to preach the Word, Nor to change the world with your life. Yet, you did. You did. How did you fall asleep? Awake, Stephen. Why have you gone? Leaving us quickly, before your dawn. Increasing in number, the people of God Remembered that Word and Deed Fulfilled every single need That Moses wielded with his rod. Not one of twelve, but one of seven, Speaking of Spirits that remain unleavened. Speak, Stephen, don't let us miss a word, We are listening, among this angry horde. We are listening. Let them grind their teeth, I will sit back and cry, As they close around you, each with a lie. Speak, speak, speak. The rocks, oh the rocks, Why must you fly? Let him shine through, Oh God, let him shine through. Stephen, awake from your sleep. Stephen, awake. Stephen. I dare not disturb him, though silently he rests.
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Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
A Poem For Stephen, Though Silently He Rests
Stephen, awake from your sleep There is still business to attend. It has been long since the world has put you to sleep And longer still since you were made to attend The stiff-necked meetings which denied the Holy Spirit Any sort of hold over Death. You were not chosen to preach the Word, Nor to change the world with your life. Yet, you did. You did. How did you fall asleep? Awake, Stephen. Why have you gone? Leaving us quickly, before your dawn. Increasing in number, the people of God Remembered that Word and Deed Fulfilled every single need That Moses wielded with his rod. Not one of twelve, but one of seven, Speaking of Spirits that remain unleavened. Speak, Stephen, don't let us miss a word, We are listening, among this angry horde. We are listening. Let them grind their teeth, I will sit back and cry, As they close around you, each with a lie. Speak, speak, speak. The rocks, oh the rocks, Why must you fly? Let him shine through, Oh God, let him shine through. Stephen, awake from your sleep. Stephen, awake. Stephen. I dare not disturb him, though silently he rests.
Written by
brad-pietryga
American
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
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