The Brilliance


I arrived on the threshold of glory, not by design, but because the ship of circumstance ferried me there. Standing in the shine of greatness that loomed overhead like a star far more illuminating than the one which has occupied the day sky since the birth of time, the place of mediocrity could not be found neither was there the slightest trace of the haunting darkness of ignorance. Nary a shadow was present, all damned to some netherworld so far removed from the here that they could very well be nonexistent.

I wasn’t dreaming, of that I was sure no thanks to the self-inflicted cut on my throbbing upper lip, but wakefulness felt like a lie if only for the sheer surreality of the space I occupied, and the way I occupied it: standing when I should have been flattened by the magnificence of it all. It all whispered of the divine while being less than heavenly, spoke of things celestial even though terrestrial, and I flew with both feet firmly on the ground.

But as if oblivious to the astonishing wonder around the body that houses it, my soul uttered one word: more. That was when I saw the brilliance.


Like a million suns in a million worlds all luminescent at once, no setting. Sacrifice as an orb of life-giving light; grace and mercy, rays from that orb. All of the beauty from Calvary, all of the kindness of a God who forgives and doesn’t remember, peace like a river flowing without end.


The sin-effacing Blood of a Saviour with a human heart, shed when nothing else would do. A Life given for lives which, summed up, can never compare in worth. An explosion of grace marking the path to the Father for eons. The ageless beacon guiding whosoever would choose to take one step in His direction (He will meet all with everlasting arms outstretched).

Love is more. Love is the brilliance.

Saving Tomorrow


Crawling away from yesterday, bleeding wounds afire,

A soul without a covering, an unsheltered heart.

Faint light of tomorrow sighted, blue as a sapphire,

A stitching of the pieces of a hope once torn apart.


Today has been violent, a punishment, a suffering,

Iron fists of the oppressor, pounding spirits into dust.

Hate like a downpour, flooding with a thundering,

But love isn’t dead, just missing, supposedly lost.


The thorns, in judgement, prick when we cross the line,

Our sins all around us, our errors laid out plain.

Patches of grace like sunshine, trickles of mercy divine,

Drops of Heaven’s kindness, alleviate the endless pain.


The veil that kept us away, ripped without a thought,

All eyes behold the Son, the hands that seek can hold.

Now prodigals say “Father,” salvation has been bought,

The price, a life unspotted, just as it was foretold.