Creation fabric sewn by word to heart Undone; lack of voice would tear the worlds apart. Etched truths pulse through blood and breath. Removed; would rend the soul; surrender life to death. So, words remained. Waiting. Heard and known … or not. But could never be removed. Or else cause death; cause rot.
No ink could form shape enough to sound. No voice could utter depth of truth that’s found. No life could live extent of them. BUT ONE. In him, that ONE, perpetual words become. True hope finds life and life is now begun Not on page or in history’s shame. But in this son.