Tears of the King

The throne of the Ancient of Days
is his weeping place

Once, falling and cascading, his tears flooded heaven and filled the earth,
the waters never to fully subside

His face — old lines deep with wisdom;
his being — gentle heart carved with sorrow

Outpoured love and brimming provision rejected turns to salty flow in pain
as the little precious ones choose harm, emptiness, and solitude.

What has been lost was part of him, born out of him

Weighty majesty and crushing grief interlace to form his covering
“We cannot see You! Where have you gone?”

He yet reigns, and weeps

and hopes

–even while some who are his stand back from his embrace,
hands clutching fear, shadows of self, cries of affirmation from the world–

for one to glance up to his face in willing trust;
to look into the eyes of his son

for one to find herself happy in his protecting arms;
to wash the dirt from his daughter’s body

for one to rest close to his heart in peaceful abandon;
to give his children all of Himself and all of home.

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