What Is Man?

I am not unlike the words of a spoken-word artiste;
I am a work of art, and not a simple one at that…
But what I truly am, I cannot confidently guess.

I am what I cannot completely define;
The product of a Master beyond constraints;
A thought from a creative Mind without confines
And birthed in Love from Hands perfect for every work.

I am His breath trapped in a mould;
A divine spark merged with an earthen work of art
In a mystery beyond unravelling though born in Light.

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Ancient Words

“I have loved thee with an everlasting love,
And I have stretched thy boundaries,
Even as I have stretched the heavens,
Wheresoever the soles of thy feet toucheth…

I have blessed, and who curseth?
Art there divinations and enchantments that do counter Mine words?
Will Mine ears hearken unto the calls that plead thy downfall;
Or will I smite in sore anger Mine tabernacle of Grace?
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Prayer #5

Father, I’m parched.
I’m thirsty, when by all indications I should be drowning.
I’m famished, when I really feel I should be utterly stuffed now.
How is it Father, that ripples on these waters still rattle me?
Why do I stumble now, when I was doing alright just a while earlier?
How am I baffled now, when I felt I understood this not long ago?
Father, please, help me; For it would be a shame to get lost, in such familiar territory.
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