You hatched into this world ten shades of brilliant blue and everyone could see
but once they saw you as a little crooked they scoffed at how surely you'd been pushed out of the nest prematurely.
As you grew and spread out that little crooked wing the sanctuary coo'd and called and made a ruckus to run all the flight tests
they tried everything to break your fragile bones back into the Image that was surely God's best.
But that little wing never straightened and those feathers just would not fit
so in order for you to keep out of the trees they gave those little crooked wings a little crippling clip.
Some off the top and a bit of the side
they invited you to keep singing but only their song , their tune, and at a volume so low that it would sound like a lie.
It wasn't before long that this resolve only stunted the cause
and through another hatching a new solution was grafted into the by-laws.
Be blue! Be crooked! Be free from your cage!
...but for God's sake, stay out of the air, lest you fly away!
And this is where I found you, this is the irony in what I see
a little crooked bluebird whom I don't seek to disrupt or discourage has delightfully disrupted me.
What will keep me observant but the pursuit something I cannot lead...
is that buried deep in my heart of hearts from my furtherest clawed tip to the wide end of my own healing and regrowing wings
there continues the pulse, the ever continued pulse, of Ā the thorn-sided sound;
"The reason the Son didn't consider His equality turns out to be
you remain chaste, clipped, and pledged to the ground."
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
