The Patter of Footsteps on My Door

My soul pours into the ground,
feet unmoving,
absorbing the energy.

I begin to patter my way down the middle of a Highway,
buckets being poured over my head,
an audience clapping,
while i dance on hot coals.

Again my feet hit the road with a splash,
and I fly through the wall of water,
as hail pounds my hands.

Laughter pierces my ears as I slip,
but I do not land on the ground.
I land in a cloud.
To be poured down upon the crowd,
my tears stain the soaked lane.

Then I stand,
on Feltner Road.
And let God’s tears,
soak through my skin.

The End

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