Ezekiel

My love is not a silly thing. It keeps

A chisel’s edge. It cuts steel. It bends

Back rivers like a mighty dam. Go see

The Forest; the winged creatures, all mine,

I made them; they are yours. These things so fine,

I make tall pines grow brown and green again.

My love catches time, fireflies in a jar,

All stopping and starting again; lasting

Longer than ten thousand burning stars.

Each grain of sand to edge an ocean

Is by design. This is no boasting.

My love shoulders out all dark and light.

What would you have me do then?

Let it so be named, I will accomplish it.

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