she who is me is set free

through the gift of Calvary.

so what does that mean

in the streets of this New York scene?

there’s a switch, and a swift

from the delays that decay:

to God’s Way that stays always.

it means souls that’s once lost

picks up the Cross to be bound in Found.

she did that and never looked back.

she fought through her breakthroughs.

she clung to her King and walked through stings.

she refuses to lose in wrong wedding rings.

she’ll remain single without carnal mingle.

she’ll wait for her King that makes her soul sing.

she’s a sinner made His Winner,

because the Holy Trinity is her Holy mirror.

the Holy Trinity is the scissors that deliver.

Greater is He who lives in me who’s she.

(1 John 4:4)

the cut in walkthroughs:

of lust that no longer combusts,

of being blessed not believing in luck,

of the weed of me to fruitful we,

of Jesus Christ being her only identity.

on the insides there’s many lies

that misguide through the lullabies of pride.

she’s in that liquor that quivers,

but the Holy Trinity is her quicker mirror.

she’s in His handle of dismantling scandals.

she glimmers in the pillar of her triggers,

but the Holy Trinity is her restoring mirror.

on the insides there’s dying intensifying

by the cultivated confetti never replacing empty.

but the Holy Trinity sets her free, because

she believes and sees supernaturally.

daily sanctification is abundant salvation,

because the Holy Trinity is a familiar mirror.

there’s a rat race hiding shameful disgrace.

supernaturally the Holy Trinity is the

sharpening disciplinary that revives

in the Light of Jesus Christ to stand and fight.

there’s a landfill of quicksand in carnal spans.

but the Holy Trinity is a repairing mirror.

the beast of carnal yeast fights to be released.

God takes away what’s not made to break

in a stake of fake that shivers and shakes.

God uses pain to show us the lusted combust.

we are ashes and ashes and dust to dust.

me must transform to we for unity.

only He as the potter can say we as clay Obey.

she sees the turmoil of her soul

it’s old not bold, and very cold.

she’s walking through the hues that make her blue.

the saddening is maddening,

and out of control vision not made for His Virtue.

He sees The Holy Trinity as her mirror

of provision in His narrow path

that adds Kingdom Math.

she lost the cost of the patrol in control.

she sees the world swings in surface scenes

by the lean of popularity over His see of purpose.

she’s stressed over everything that stings.

she’s in a fire untouched by the power

in His Midnight Hour:

her deliverance from cultural hinderances.

the hostages of her societal bondages.

she only trusts the Holy Trinity and who He sees.

she only sees who He keeps around her.

her dreams sometimes show a different mirror,

and that path seems like illogical math.

at the end of the day, she chooses His Way.

the Holy Trinity is her hidden figure

that will always be bigger as her mirror.

love she that scribes lines of poetry.


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