Lord's Call To Michael Poem, by Joseph M Marion, at My poetic side

Thus says the Lord:

I have set My hand upon you, Michael,

and the fire within you is not of your own making.

It rises like a sign in the night,

a burden in the bones,

a trembling in the hidden chambers of the soul.

Behold, I have stirred the deep places in you.

What swells within your heart

shall not be silenced by fear,

nor buried by the passing of days.

For I have planted this calling

like a seed in hard ground,

and it shall break open in its season.

You have walked through shadow,

and the shadow has not consumed you.

You have stood in silence,

and the silence has not abandoned you.

For I, the Lord,

have been with you in the furnace,

and I have not left you to the flame.

Do not despise the weight upon you.

Do not call small what I have made great.

For this is the Lord’s call to Michael,

and it is written not in ink,

but in the inward parts,

where no man can erase it.

Rise, then, and listen.

For the voice that called the prophets

still speaks in the dark,

and the hand that

appointed them

has not grown weak.

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