The cold wind blows at the back of a neck.
Bringing rise to the chilled echos of goosebumps.
Making their way from the skin to the mind
That we declare “is in check.”
The mind, checking the things from those grades
To those fines.
Those fine fines which dine with the echos
Of a thousand and a thousand quarters and dimes.
They chime in my ear, though now I can’t hear
The echo of Him, who is calling me near.
My Savior’s call, which renders me small.
Renders me small, as I can’t help but bawl.
Bawling as my mind is making its stalling,
As thoughts make their crawling into the recesses of that dark hall.
Searching for every dime and left over time in an absence of light.
An absence of what is right, any might, and a hope of flight.
Since without Him, I’m chained to these floors.
No flying, or freedom, as I walk in this night.
The night which assumes its right, while I’m still locked with fright.
Since without my Savior, I’m stuck in this fright.
But the Son has arose,
And I’m rescued tonight.
Rescued from the bite that Darkness no longer calls
“Mine.”