He sat by a furnace of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown, for the king to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would say Him "nay."
And watched the dross that we had not seen
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were dim with tears,
We saw but the fire, not the Master’s hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow
As it mirrored a form above,
That bent o’er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He sees through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure.
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.

~ A.F. Ingler

I was told the Refiner’s Fire
Would make me shine and glow.
I wish I had I known, that long ago,
The true Refiner left open the door.

I could have stepped outside,
And realized the sun is even warmer.
Into a new light, enters my soul,
And instantly I feel calmer.

Free from all the control and lies,
I was told as the fire was lit.
The choice that was always meant to be mine,
Was stripped away bit by bit.

It’s Healing and Grace, I’m needing right now -
I can’t find in the walls of this church.
The fire holds no love for me now,
The sun is what I deserve.

I’m standing in sunlight, still fully loved,
Without fire licking my skin.
After decades in a constricted cell,
I’m breaking out from within.

The refiners fire was always manmade,
A way to foster control.
The sunlight instead, beckons me in,
Bringing me back to the fold.

A star awoken, of dreams freely spoken
All equipped – musicianship
Unbound to conventional forms, to so adorn
A woman’s worth
Au naturel
Transcendence of thought, unveiled soul
Of tears, of joy
F
A
L
L
I
N
Classical calling
A dazzling butterfly, hearts identify
Live on stage, delivered diary
A poetic page, with essence to free
A monumental flow of harmony
Unique individuality

A universal language, a mindful connective
Emotional growth, inner introspective
Live and unplugged
With all that jazz
Rhythm refiner, songs in A Minor
A unique find, true state of mind
Motivational strive
Such inner drive
The extraordinary, piano mastery
Musical milestone, a class of her own
I
C
O
N
I
C
Artistry, scale significantly
Chord composition, resounding fruition
Of passion – piano, vocal poetess
Authentic standard, of no less

Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️

"Burn me beautiful,
burn me lovely,
burn me righteous,
burn me holy.
I want to be tried by fire,
only to be purified."

In a crucible we're placed
As gold with dross to spare
Placed upon a fervent flame
We are all heated there.

Through this hard and
Hellish trial
We melt down as the ore
Releasing our impurities
Our faults come to the fore.

All the greed and avarice
All coveting and lust
Hate and anger bubble up
All envy & mistrust.

Jealousy. All vanities.
Malice & disdain
We scream & shout
And writhe about
Grumble & complain.

God takes his refiner's scoop
Removes the crust and then
Leaves us on the furnace fire
And heats us up again!

As we release the
Dirt and grout
There is a peace that's found
We find our comforter in Him
And we quiet down.

Still we have the impure thought
We are not worry free
We have a sort of "holy" pride
Religiosity.

Finally, this scraped away
There's NOTHING left. No trace
God looks into the shining gold
And sees His very face!

How glorious, the finished gold!
How beautiful the ore!
It's set in wondrous majesty

To shine forevermore
.

Releasing The Seed Savage

Rooted and built up in the receives-refiner,

Being  comfortable among the treasures of abounding

grace after the fullness wherein that see the glorifying signals.

Circumcising the mysteries in the ark within the praise,

putting the impact of desperation in the charity which is the

bond of perfectness.

Chiefly sanctifying the gasecious enablement within the

spirit jubilee through the investment of biblical images…

flying greatness in the ordination, gathering up ***** by

the encounter of joy unstoppable.

Testing the test of time within the voracious vibration,

Spouses the humbleness in the gifts reassurance synergy.

Sworing the signals among the baptizing destinies with full

Back-up, in much potency entering the higher of profession.

Penetrating the hope firm living through the genetic-exhortation.

Bearing onto complete witnesses in the crow nest multitudes.

Fertilising the ministration within the marvel of spiritual allocations,

In the banquet  therapy where of spread the echoes the virtue at upper room.

Revolutionalising the secret  provision to 1000 Times More into

the “Just-Tidy” faculty.

Furthering the enterprise within the infalliable proof.



Your Sensitivity-in-the Voluminous,

SURETICE TONGUE

Email: believingvirtue@gmail.com

RHEMA PIPELINE.Releasing The Seed Sava

Through refiner's fire I am becoming more me.
Iron in the Fire, Looking into the past to launch myself to the future.
Iron in the Fire, Reading old letters and seeing what has changed.
Iron in the Fire, Glad I am no longer in the closet.
Iron in the Fire, And I feel more free.

Sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but you'll never
see me quiver,
when I wither.

Into the forest,
Red Ridinghood
sing your chorus,
the "Bad Wolf", allured,
becomes your victim secured.

Goosey, goosey, gander,
tied me to an anchor,
thrown down your stairs,
someone hear my prayers,
to survive the refiner's fire.

Old Mother Hubbard
throw me your bone,
no more of the unknown,
look at what we have sown,
dark and deary tones.

At the Mulberry bush
we'll go round and round,
hand in hand we're bound,
inflicting unsealing wounds,
we never belonged together.

I wouldn't be a poet
Unless I had been touched
By the bolts of melody
But I've had the poets luck
Paying my libations
At altar of the muse
Refiner of perception
Disabuser of the ruse
Attuned to visions nil perceived
By slow and slumbering eyes
Enamoured enough to court belief
For visions of divinity
The poet has ruminated
Her license to be awed
By the splendour of her surroundings
A bug with no known cause
Her incessant thinking turns her to
The subjects of her wonder
The sea, the earth, the moon,
The voice of bards, gods thunder

Why call me African Giant
When my people live below poverty level
Less than two dollars a day
I cry for my country Nigeria
A people suffering and smiling
A land plenty in poverty

If we top Africa's oil production
Shouldn't our social security be world class?
Shouldn't our senior citizens be tended with class
Why the massive exodus abroad?
Brain drain and capital flight
Increase in crime wave
I cry for my nation

How can a man marry a wife
And another rapes her with impunity
Collects all the goodness deposited in her
Who should be the first partaker of the fruit?
Tell me, a stranger or the groom?
Who cursed Africa?

Who owns our oil wells?
How many indigenous companies?
Stupidity is killing a bush Rat
Selling it to the refiner cheap
And gathering with your cohorts
Drinking pepper soup with same bush Rat
At an exorbitant price

We lost our middle class
In Africa's supposed largest economy
You are either rich or very poor
This is more like the animal kingdom
Where the winner takes it all
What am I even saying?
Are we not all animals!

Who is talking about gold?
Agriculture and minerals
Who is talking about our human resource?
Schooled with employability mentality
We have to change the narratives
This change begins with you
Stop sitting on the fence

If we keep servicing debts
Supporting lavish lawmakers lifestyles
It won't be long before famine sets in
A re-enactmant of Genesis 41
What happened to infrastructural development?
Human and capacity development
Great nation, indeed!

Where do all our oil money go?
You cannot be a player and referee same time
Who benefits from our collective wealth
Definitely not the Niger Deltans
You should be ashamed as a leader
We chose you, but you failed...

Don't think we are fools
We are only acting the fool
Just to fool you fool
That thinks you are fooling us
A new generation of activists are born
Not with guns and powders
We will fight you with the greatest weapon
A pen, mightier than the sword
With the people on our side

I pay my taxes and abhor capital flight
If you under-report your earnings
Or surreptitiously evade tax
Are you different from them?
Play your part, keep hands clean
Very soon, their sins will visit them
Publicly, they will be put to shame
That Africa may be great