December air cuts with a sacred clarity,
each breath a confession, frost-lined
and unscripted. We stumble through
our daily tasks like penitents, burdened
by the invisible weights of wanting.
Our lives, a seething chorus of missed
marks, of darkened mirrors reflecting
our heart’s quiet betrayals. Yet, in the
long shadows cast by streetlights, we
see the possibility of grace, an ember
glowing softly in our chest. We strip
our pride, our accolades to the bone,
offering scraps of humility to the sky's
unseen manuscript. The night grows
longer, and our hearts ache deeper,
calling out through centuries of silence
for a Savior who knows our frailty,
who hears the whisper of our longing.
In the advent of this season, we find
ourselves unstitched, awaiting the
one who mends, who makes whole.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 8th, 2024 14:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments3
So appropriate for the season. Nicely written
BRAVO
Amazing
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