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 flood there is of light,
suffused between the cracks,
sojourn of faith its plight,
filling where mere mortal lacks
a full exposure guarded, to deny another kill
from brilliance's completed verdict, its origin in God's will
until, until then, heaven's only leaking its divine burn,
the staple of eventual everlasting sup,
holding before us for sight, another corner to turn,
hinting the way leading, tipping to that flaming cup-still
until, until then, 'tis for our hand to steady, to balance against fate
and forced to bare burden of daily living choice,
to deny our heart freezing frozen-into hell's unholy state,
to garner through decisions, that Unifying Voice
Who will guide the way everlasting,
through eternity's forever winding ring
where perished is any need of fasting,
because Here the light no longer needs to sting
poem by Darrell Rohling
email him about it at Djrohling@aol.com
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