Not Yet


When we sat down by the rivers in Zion
When we wore our songs as garments
With every passing tear leaping from our faces
There we were visited by our reflections of dreams
Dangerously collaborating when “ye were gods”
Holding nightfall in our purses

The brocade of morning dancing on our tongues
And we reciprocated the testimonies every saint,
Resurrecting new life in elders, whose blood still cries out from the ground.
Then every war must cease, to scatter the ashes of nations before us.
Seven trumpets will sound the halt in time, Daniel standing in the holy place. Revealing in summation, the first Adam, the second coming

Krissy Mosley 2016


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