Yet the vessel cannot see its flame Not without gazing upon itself in a mirror Not without looking outward, outside of itself 

The vessel cannot understand the Brilliance emanating from it
Not without having first experienced the darkness, the shadows
Not without having first dwelled in the abyss of blackness

Holy fire...


Sitting in silence,Righteous rage rises. Scared of the tempest inside me... My pride is in check. At least, so I think... Maybe I should check again.

Prophetic... I'm told. Honest and vulnerable. Credible to say the least. It's not what I wanted. Please take back this burden, I beg as my head starts to spin.

I was just listening For the voice of my Papa Telling me where I should go. Who should I be And where did she want me. If I'd known this, I would've said no...

But I didn't, did I? No.  Instead of running, I stood my ground, not caving.  I spoke truth out of darkness and wholeness out of pieces. And now my nice, neat little box has morphed into chaos. My peace is now jumbled with anger rising to the surface. For once, it's not anger with myself.  

It's a weird feeling for me.  Wholeness merged with momentum. Normally it comes quietly, coupled with stillness. This time, the fires are stoked. Something is coming, something is growing. Deep in my stomach, knots form, untangle, reform, untangle. Fingers twitching, legs restless. Heart racing, palms sweaty, heart heavy but solid.

It's time now, I think To let holy fire rain Down on the injustice I see. It's not me who's fighting. I was just telling truths That were there but still shrouded in silence.

The answers aren't clear And the questions keep coming. All I do is just try to hold on. Please forgive me... I'm broken Like the rest of the world. Fighting hard to find some sense of rest.

But this flame burns within me, Getting hotter and stronger. Just enough to turn steel into sword. I must buckle down hard, Stay surrounded by love, Finding rest in th'embrace of Her Word.

I ask now for you patience As we journey this new road Moving slow so as not to get lost. Papa's kindom is coming And I want to be there To see hearts strangely warmed all across.