JML STUDIO
Before the ink was dried upon the page,
Before the first breath met the earthly stage,
A hidden spark was woven in the dark,
Unwritten in the world, but bearing heaven's mark.
The earthly court may alter dates and years,
And build a fortress out of false frontiers,
But Wisdom counts the math of forty-four,
And knows the threshold of the temple door.
What is bound on earth is broken by the light,
The Shekinah rests within the quiet night.
No human hand can cross out what is true,
Or change the life the Spirit breathed in you.
Let formal journals fade and slip away,
The Silent Witness hears what mortals cannot say.
Through desert winds and storms that swept the coast,
A solitary path was walked, unseen by most.
When stones were thrown and doors were firmly barred,
And steps were heavy and the pavement hard,
A steady hand upheld the falling weight,
And guarded innocence outside the gate.
The scars of iron left upon the frame
Are signs of healing, not a mark of shame.
What is bound on earth is broken by the light,
The Shekinah rests within the quiet night.
No human hand can cross out what is true,
Or change the life the Spirit breathed in you.
Let formal journals fade and slip away,
The Silent Witness hears what mortals cannot say.
Like David in the cave, or Joseph in the pit,
The story is not done because a judge has written it.
True understanding does not shout or scream,
It sits in quiet by the flowing stream.
The sanctuary stands within the breast,
Where weary travelers find their final rest.
Go leave the valley to the fleeting sun,
The labor of defense is finally done.
The truth is documented in the skies,
Beyond the reach of changing human eyes.
Be still, and know.
The peace has now begun.