You build your palace of gold
At a trumpet call
All those imperfect crumple before you

And a bird sits on a long-abandoned holy temple
A wildflower grows on an ancient mantelpiece
Without sarcasm,
Victory or defeat

2/2

You come at me with the sword of the living God

I come at you with a wildflower
You come at me with scripture
And flawless goodwill and immaculate joy

I return fire
With poetry
And suffering

I come at you, O Spirit
With a mess
Something neither wrong nor right
Raw, ugly and vulnerable

1/2

What Stirs the Heart

Love: An action, a word, a feeling?
How we define it divides us
You are not determined by strength
But the warmth of your heart