The illimitable bass that bellows within the sleeping souls keeps the water in the glass at its brink. No thoughts pass about wetting the floor; this is raw love encased within bodies that are trying to harmonize their equalizers. The bass booms, shaking every molecule into separation from it’s brother.
Stuff only seen in dreams.
A glass full of a divine choir, not ashamed of the song we sing.
Your love is as smooth as cocoa and like carbonated dynamite down to my bone.
I was so fearful that the needles You used to stitch me back together would somehow scratch the record, and cause Your wrath to flood over me like a stampede. I’d be trodden down. Forget about being left for dead. We won’t know what to do with ourselves, because we simply won’t exist one surge of Your righteousness. There’s nothing more that I’d rather be than the person I was afraid would shame your name, but Your presence purifies. You’re cracking my skin like hot drift wood after a rainy day, Jesus.
Your liquid filters out my dirt, and You cast it on Yourself to die. To die, and never come again like it was before.
Like a flat, watered down soda; Your flesh was a good for nothing shell diluted with dissolved pieces of each one of us. How else can we repay such life! Where does any other explosive love originate but from Your booming grace! I am shattered; we are trembling at Your sound still. Such greatness recorded, and put into amplifiers splits the spine of this world, and he falls to his hands, and then down on his knees without legs to stilt himself.
We become water particles.
We become coke bottle shaken up.
We become your song.
Play us, and we will keep on growing stronger with the repeating rhythm of Your life, Our untamed King.