Poetry and the like, by Amy Opal Marshall


Friday, 18 July 2014

Tekton - 11.20,21.13

You move                  You build

You carve                  You breathe

You choose these cold stones,
Sweat and groan as You bear them,
Dream of what You will make them.

Your Word, Your Heart, Your Hand the tool -
Dress naked stone through unparalleled vision,
Unhurried in holy process,
For in Your Presence is naught constrained by time.

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