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@ Poetstry
2025-04-29 07:55:19
He comes in #Light, a fiery grace,
No earthly mask hides heart or face.
The Living, the Dead, called forth to stand,
By Love's severe, refining hand.
My own soul shrinks, remembering ill,
The prideful thought, the broken will.
But then I kiss my children's hair,
And breathe a parent's urgent prayer.
Lord, judge me not as I deserve,
But let Your boundless #Mercy serve.
Not for my sake, but theirs I plead,
To plant in them the righteous seed.
Beneath the Lampada's gentle gleam,
We trace the Icon, like a dream.
And trust the Lamb, who broke the chains,
Will heal our wounds and wash our stains.