David is dancing again...

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation
and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau

I hear the song that has been sung into the cathedral of my soul, growing louder.
With fearless anticipation, I throw open the windows of this temple.
Like a hundred white doves fleeing captivity, the music will be heard.

There is a new song arising out of the depths of this curtained tabernacle.
From behind the suffocating veil, its melodies can be heard again.
Like the dawns awakening kiss, the dead are quickened and quiet mouths are filling with laughter.

David is dancing again...

A gentle spring has started to flow out of hard ground.
Celestial streams, forced up out of the holy of holies,
Are pooling in the sanctuary and being stirred by mischievous angel's wings.

The deaf are coming to the waters, lured by a heavenly score.
Upon the wet sands of hope's rippling shores, they dance again.
In the mist of Your waterfalls, they are reunited with the part of them that died.
You give them new feet for dancing.
They will ascend the heights and scale the mountains,
prancing along the precipice with rescued confidence.

Yes, You stand over premature graves and sing over us.
The claws of death try in vain to grapple with the winds of resurrection.
Abbadon's clutching fingers are pried from the throats of reviving destiny.
The hearts that have died before their time, rise up out of opened graves.
Yielding to the song of the Caller, the One whose voice is the sound of a thousand waters.

You sing over us, Great Song... and we dance at the sound of Your voice.

Prayer/poem/prophesy Written 4.22.05.
Picture taken by LeeElla.