The Call

One of the seraphim flew to me
with a live coal in each hand and
laid them upon my eyes.
And I saw the great deception was not
that we could be like God
but that we were bred solely for utility.
Then, a voice gentle like rain said
Now go, tell them they were born
to be monumental in the sun.
 
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6 Comments

  1. Larry Shallenberger on June 16, 2014 at 1:14 pm

    You know who are you, John.

  2. Shepard on June 16, 2014 at 1:32 pm

    thank you

  3. wynnegraceappears on June 16, 2014 at 1:42 pm

    Double mercy with a good gracious me thrown in for good measure.

  4. Bare Branches on June 16, 2014 at 3:00 pm

    “born to be monumental in the sun.” Good lord, you speak true and beautiful.

  5. pastordt on June 19, 2014 at 3:22 pm

    And you do, John. You do. Thank you for that obedience.

  6. The-best-ones-in-June | between worlds on June 28, 2014 at 12:03 pm

    […] The Call by John Blase. A beautiful little poem on our purpose. […]

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