this pendulum,
winter’s cold, iron arm
has swung into the deeper places
where the light seldom shines
and now it has stopped…
like a heart between beats
and we are caught breathless
in icebourne, crisp anticipation
waiting for the withering end
or the great slow turn
toward a brighter day
toward a warmer day
where we understand the words

“behold, i am making all things new!”


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