constellations strumming through the nature that once was and the dawn that did set it and is still breaking in-
thunderous mountains move as Christ speaks.
in assurance from the truly Beloveds' warmth upon the blue...
it'll make sense once it makes sense.
for now, turn, turn and keep on turning- looking unto the Son that perfects all parallel dimensions in you that never wanted to be a part of this artistry.
temptations without a home, give them no pillow to rest in your paper heart.
this is for Him to write on alone and the fleeting desires are but flames that crave for a name but you, having once been lifted are part of all the everlasting winds- which now rest as comfort in your very veins- resembling the morning to come- hold on, soon He'll come...