Once, a great Stone was rolled away
and out came a man of bones and glory
I trust to walk out from that opened grave some day
to live inside that story. Down here, i’m chipping away,
skipping stones, like a kid, on an endless river running from a Throne somewhere. Looking towards the estuary.
But here we are all still made of bone
chipping away stone into clarity; being edited by hope,
our faces will finally come clear like a billboard
at night, by an endless unseen highway; yet,
in the meantime,
the partial dawn of glory illuminates
what is being rolled away, our endless wrinkles of being, our interruptedness.
Where in quietness, we can’t quite say yes yet!
Here, we try
to rise up and walk out with Him, partially lit up by a trail of steps, and yet
rocky and lame as we are, with one eye, on heaven’s manifestation and incarnation, yet
with our feet still made of earth
we slowly stumble upwards…
in the already dawn, which lands on stones in morning light
as they and we all are!