An Easter Sunday

Truly, it is a sight indescribable.

Our bodies moved to a pulsating beat.

All the while large crystals fell from the heavens

They collected and gathered in community.

Our forms were stilled before the awing view.

Ground covered white in the purest snow

White purity spread covering the crimson grass

Blood has been shed, blood has been poured.

Our sin is gone and our hearts have been turned

I focus directly on the sole Risen one.

I now know intimately the Savior of us all.

His face is etched into these peering mountains

His hand outstretches in every breeze

His love, encompasses our very being

O Praise the Risen King.

Our sin has been washed white as



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