Unusual Untitled


Your speech, your song,
winds words breathed with arctic
breath that burns like tropic sun.

You have convicted me with the lies
I tell others and acquitted me in my
sin, freely without cost

but at such great cost I cannot
bear it--freely as water in a well
costly as a fragrant oil or

frankincense purging all
impurity left behind and asking
God to hear us all

and bate that winter's breath
that arctic tropic sun that burns
with such cold beam

O my seigneur

© 2003 Steven Riddle

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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on March 12, 2003 7:59 AM.

More Poetry--Can You Imagine? was the previous entry in this blog.

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