Thomas Hall
The Prodigal Soul
Victory perceived,
taste - sublime;
angels cheer the moment.
Evil reacts, fears rise
malevolent thoughts, seek entry
the old life is dying.
All I am - all I’m not,
adds to the greater confusion;
a lifetime, under goes attack.
God’s kiln - burns away
illusion’s painful history
tempers, a holy dream.
Soon enough, we will collide
the sinner, and the holy
come together, as if I’d died.
Page(s) 20
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