Darkness Over The Face of The Deep
There's a certain kind of pain, a primal and raw, upending, impending, dark deep kind of pain. A baring pain, that reveals the stone, dry, barren ash land within. When coping mechanisms and support systems and illusions of control are stripped away, or cease to work, this kind of pain bares one's nakedness. brings to light one's emptiness. leaving one a lone. To taste and see and touch and feel. darkness. over the face. of one's deep. and the void. raging. inside.
It is, I have learned, a terrible thing to fall into the hands of a living God.
Time after time, I am being taught, in this baring pain, God is living and active, revealing, the depths of my depravity, this despairing cavity, infecting my soul. And yet, of this terrible thing, I still. sing. The dark shadow, covering. It is, I have learned. I AM. Still. Baring Beauty.
During this Time in the Hands of a living God, I taste and see and touch and feel. He is Good.
In these pangs of pain, hungering, in my Time of greatest loss. i am fed the Cross. And the soot I once tasted is not wasted, for in His Way, He is embering Golden Amber Mercies of New Day. Bless the LORD, Oh my soul, from these lips touched with burning coal. I AM. Still. Let there be Light. In This Night. Baring Beauty.
In this Time, in the Hands of a Living God, when darkness is over my face. my deep wrinkled valleys, worn and aching, my hard tablet stone heart, He is breaking, open, The Eyelids of the Dawn, That See. Jesus. Darkness over His Face, for me. And that dark veil, is ripped to it's tail. That I might be set free, to see. I AM. Still. Lazarus, come forth. On This Front Porch. Baring Beauty.
When my whole world is in His hands and there is darkness over the face of the deep, blue, cold waters of my bitterness. i am touched by His outstretched Hands, on The Tree, He cast in those Bitter Waters, for me. and His Hands. Bring me. Healing. i begin feeling. In my mara waters. i need no longer fear, for i hear. I AM. Still. A restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age, during your time on This page. Baring Beauty.
There's a certain kind of pain, a primal and raw, upending, impending, dark deep kind of pain. A baring pain. Revealing. The stone, dry, barren ash land within. When one is left. Alone. To taste and see and touch and feel. Darkness Over The Face of The Deep. And the void, raging inside, is hushed. Be Still. I AM. Still. Let the earth sprout. Let us shout. The Seed. Still. Baring Beauty.
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