February 29, 2008
With the walls around me dripping colors
The face of creation is brought to mind,
But I cannot see him as my eye would see.

I taste the spices that make up his skin.
I smell the buds that blink back at me.
And as I perceive him with my hearts eye,
I hear the life that flows from his hands

I sense these things and I come alive.
My feet, they dance on the earth he has made.
And my voice rings out with the sparrows:

Am I more precious?
My hairs are they numbered?
“Yes much like the stars with names
And the lilies blessed and adorned.”

I am like these things to him.
“You are more than these to me.”

So I drink deep the face of him who gave,
him who bought me from the grave.
I am a fed child, a blooming tree,
And now these colors on the walls
Do not compare to the beauty in me

I am new, I am complete,
“In me you are free.”

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