A God that is Yours

[brianc]

A God that is Yours

Slender beams of illumination enter
this darkened prison as I kneel,
always lost, always cold,
frozen here,
waiting.

Robed forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my darkened soul.

Terror on a deathless face.

I raise my head, now kneeling before
this airy darkness.

This is my god.

Regards,
Brian Crowell