Of the very Being that hung on that cross,
Paid my debts and left death in a terrible loss,
Gave me a new life and offered me freedom,
A King who made me an heir of His kingdom.
He showed me love, more than that,
He was love, He was depth,
And that depth was another depth.
He broke me, shattered me into a thousand pieces,
I was a mess, His mess,
He saw perfection, I saw distress,
He saw beauty, I saw ashes,
He remoulded me, taking His time,
His love was the connecting tissue,
It held me fast, it held me stronger,
it held me tighter.
At last, I was finished,
I was white as snow, clean as a sheet.
I shone like a diamond in the rough,
The scars had acted tough, but they were had vanished,
My heart beat of pure, raw flesh,
Fire was lit in bones,
Oil dripped from my head,
Passion was woven as fabric to my soul,
Glazed in love was I,
His light shone on His craft, His work of art.
His face bore His smile.
He was satisfied.
I was His masterpiece
His masterpiece who was not ASHAMED
Diary of my daughter.
This Post Also Appeared Here.
Blurt.
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.
