confront the stone and drill right through
hard rubble of calluses
collapse before Him.
Chips fly and sparks fry the air
as compacted heart comes apart.
the new heart transplant can be a
finicky process and the old heart rebellious,
stubborn to die.
/
the Excavator digging through the pain and grief-ite and pride-stone, riddled the old callused heart.
So much pride-stone flecks of green in black, shame stone mirrors that looks endless but lead nowhere, and sparks of delusionite illumination that only blind
the replacement is inevitable and deeply desired,
but painful — none deny it.
But to be of the Excavator’s flock a new heart is needed, required for survival.
the old one will die.
/
so stone flints and flies, freezes and fries.
The drilling and extraction continues.
Martin Write 