My Life: My Shelter

My life: my shelter. And trumpets echo silence. Thus we
Harvest spirit. But shattered nerves, bleed the soul; and
Patient death, wounds the core. We kneel, the sightless prayer.
And such tempest, a martyrs bliss. But strong contempt, a
Skeptic storm. Thus we howl, a virgin’s pain; and thus we
Plead, the faith of Christ. But tearful tombs—plague the soul;
And fallen grace—ruptures heart. Thus the soil, fraught with
Bane; and thus the life, leaking pain.
My life: my shelter. And trumpets echo silence. Thus we
Harvest spirit. But fractured prayers, pierce the soul; and mortal
Fears, taint the core. We die, clawing hope: we rise, gnawing
Faith. And such friction, a saintly myth. But life, a hidden
Grain; and death, a mystic ache. Hence we perish, stippled with
Scars; and hence we perish, proud of pain.      Â

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Comments
Glenn Marchand,
Highly spiritual and wonderful write, My vote and my nomination.
Regards & Love
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
I thank you for your comment and nomination, Williamsji.
The strong longing to thrive a passion full life, fearing not enough, merely dying in sorrows dismay, taking the hurt buried inside the the grave, " maybe" that's what i feel anyway, correct me if im a long shot haha, love it regardless, great write Glenn xx
Nardine, your interpretation may not be that far off the mark. But the intension of this poem is to speak to the fact that believers suffer, even willingly, in order to experience the sufferings of Christ, in order to enter his Spirit. And despite the suffering, God is our life, our shelter. In fact, the closer one gets to the Spirit of God, the more the one in question is going to experience strife and troubles; and no matter how close one gets to God, there is ever a chasm between that person and God. This, too, causes the believer to suffer--seeking the face of God.
Thank you for interpreting it for me Glenn, such true n wise perception, faith is of the heart and lead by the mind as such xx