from temporal to transcendent

(in progress...)

I do not understand what his plans may be
but I do know what his plans are not;
the bruised he does not break,
the downcast man he will not abandon.

And what of the snares and traps
planned against those who live upright?
He allows them though we cry out as Job,
"Remember oh, God, that my life is but a breath!"

And faith is tried
and trust is tested
and hope seems loosed
to the doubt of a material and terrestrial sanctuary.

And the interior inquisitor takes his grip
as the questions flood in
like a raging river undammed,
"My God, Why!"

The blackness of dark
hides all form of tangible truth,
and light is swallowed
by an unwholesome void.

And what of the bruises and gashes,
the heart aches and hunger?
Pain appears to drain the soul of
life giving nectar and stores.

In those all-consuming moments
the agony whispers eminent demise
and the hurt screams,
"You are undone!"

The bandaid is ripped away
too fast and too soon.
Stunned by the shock though reeling in torment
the words of the poet king resound,
"What is the use in my going down?"

You will be crushed

You will suffer

You will know torment

You will experience misery and woe.

But you shall not be defeated
You will not be bested
You will not be conquered
You shall not be overcome.

There is a strength to be found,
and in that strength is righteous authority
that will cut down the fiercest foe,
power to destroy the wildest enemy.

There is a sword to wield,
and in that sword is unmanageable light,
light that voraciously seeks
to overcome shadowed distortions .

There is a refuge to hide in,
and in that refuge is a treasury of virtuous provision,
fountains and streams that heal
the wounded and wearied soul.

And yet we see with human eyes;
there is much left unknown.
Will the value and worth of these temporal oppressions
carry weight and meaning to the world transcendent?

Fire leaves the impurities behind
and polishes the precious metal.
Does faith remain and
trust stand firm?

Loose thy hope in realms
where decay and rot exist not,
where mercy lines the streets
and love reigns supreme.

© copyright micah holcombe 2007