fringe selvedges

Transformation angelsRepeatedly reformedCalls microinterventionUnubiquitously forlorne.

I can guaranteeA soulless searchIn my searching soul. I cannot breakMy softening heartFrom a heartless toll. I can’t not healMy breaking angerFrom its broken whole.

Lines of my historyScratched deep in my faceReflects the pain of remembranceAnd the stain, of God’s grace. Lines of your historyEtched deep from withinDetects the presence of pretenseIn God’s pressure, to win. Lines of our historyAn arched angel withinDenies the posture of pressureIn God’s sojourn, of sin.