Crucible

I bend to be formed,

not torn or broken

but tempered by heat,

a fire so hot

the white is all

You see of me.

I said “change” and “grow”

and I’m bent so low

this shape of me

is screaming--

melting brass in Your

hands, forged by

tools so strong

I fear the breaking.

But I'm bound to bend,

be shaped, sheared

shown anew

the sound of me,

the shine of me,

gleaming  glory.

Yes, choosing to bend

not break,

become the beautiful

breath of sudden sound

built by your Spirit (breath)

living notes

played through me

a golden song borne on the wind....

~~~~~~~~~~
a re-post from the Archives, lo, three years ago