Six-winged seraphim
mask their faces
cloak their feet
thunder praises
rise to greet
the soiled prophet's
truth-seared lips
with scorched old sod
from the fingertips
of angels of God.

Trembling, altered
by temple-filled voice
he grabs God's train he
affirms God's choice.
Here am I! Send me.


Sydney Avey writes and blogs in the Sierra Nevada Foothills.
sydneyavey.com
blog.sydneyavey.com

Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com-CHRISTIAN WRITERS

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