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Through glass-paned windows once you saw a picture still.
A half made view, lines blurred by grime and façade’s smear.
Their view obscured by curtains made by my design,
To show a picture that you would find more than fine.
Away from glass, deceptive frame and putrid lies.
Come see now into soul and hear the unchanged cries.
Nothing withheld, nothing censored, you will see all,
From lofty sights of glory to my darkest fall.
So come now into heart and mind, the door opened.
See broken heap that only God could ever mend.
The blood is black as ink and stains more than a page
It’s writing stems from hope, from love, and then from rage.
So step up to see what I’ve left for you to read.
Tread softly, now you walk upon more than my dream.

© R. P. McDonald 2013.

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