day above all others
when hearts bleed no more
and cries are silenced by everything
and faces are known.
in time, all will be seen as worthless thieves to Your glory.
hands known will release their grasp
and men will know
the gods of the people are empty,
the semblance of our raised hearts.
a lie formed by our hearts wanting happy without holy.
a lust for rust and bone,
for what can be had now.
a diseased want always opposed to that day above all others.
all this, sloped to confession,
to lean us to You.
the emptiness we cannot resolve
hidden in our hurts that won't relent.
found in Your grace, a hunting love undeterred by sin.