edged ever closer to the horizon,
wringing every drop of warmth
from its golden rays.
I'd never seen it so demanding,
commanding me to look,
full on, face to face . . .
but I could not hold my gaze steady,
I had to look away.
The cloudless skies provided no veil
to filter it's penetrating beams.
Only at it's edges where its brightness shot out
like shards of glass,
could I allow a fleeting glance.
Words from the sacred pages
rise from my spirit and echo in my mind.
" . . . a tabernacle for the sun . . ."
". . . like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber . . ."
". . . rejoices like a strong man to run his race . . ."
". . . nothing hidden from its heat . . ."
Nothing hidden . . . woe is me!
But . . . wait, it can't or can it be
I lift my eyes,
take one last look.
The radiant orb is now blood-red
and I remember what He said . . .
"Though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow."
The Holy One,
the brightness of His glory,
and I am forgiven.
© Andrea Dawn Olsen - 28 August 2011