I must fire the storm and let the rain pour.
I cannot hold still or lie down anymore.
A dance in me is burning my muse…
Hidden, sleeping, like an untouched long fuse.
It is painful to move; for too long, life unused.
I stir to wake, or forever to lose.
Lord, break all apart until this heart starts.
Thunder the veins that would seem to depart.
Let me dance through the glass and the red fallen post.
Clear the halls that are filled with her irradiate ghost.
Let all the called winds bring Your heavenly Host
And find muse fired in skies that light Your Beauty most.
Mark all the Told and invoke the birthed New.
Let all that is Sacred claim this Motion’s Due.
Leaping all into the arms of Your Love’s Evermore,
Let the Godly fall in and and sweet Grace Rainstorms Pour.
©2016 rewrite Linda Willows, original 2012