my words are spilled out on page
whichever two dimensional tablet I choose.
His insides are spilled out on ground
whichever lifeless surface I choose.
How do I make my words count?
They are only sounds spelled out
I throw them into the air
speak life to them with hot breath.
How do I make His death count?
Blood has fallen on dead flesh
He’s splattered it everywhere
and sighed last with death rattle.
and I pour out my words infused with His life.
It was His life for mine.
His Words for mine.
An excellent exchange.
What about for Him?
Was the trade good for Him?
aside from obedience?
Make my life count, Jesus
Who lives forever.
Make my words count, Lord
237. A day to write to my heart’s content.
244. My children inviting people to Easter brunch…:)
shared over at D’Verse Poets