#642723 added April 21, 2009 at 10:54pm Restrictions: None
166.10 1st Peter 3 <SS>
1 Noble at birth, you rise, yet abased by loved-ones, your spirit flees elsewhere, like a tossed snowball that melts unnoticed.
2 The celestial harp sees your heart shrink, bereft of warmth, standing before the gates of the city.
3 Your blood smears its strings with each pluck.
4 The few comrades that remain pure of heart seek to embrace you, open their habitations,
5 They beg you to sanctify your heart.
6 They find it has fled to wide open spaces.
7 Placeless it wanders, a spirit seeking the smallest of kindness, some lover's sanctuary.
8 What utterance of love will you know and accept, what safety enter.
9 Near what stronghold against the winds of winter will you abide.
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