In Poetry by eric holmberg0 Comments

ForeglowIt’s in His light where she sees light

and beholds things as they are.

With singled eye, her form grows bright,

moon-bride to the Morning Star.


No glory hers, no image fine

without the Bridegroom’s light.

As cross the sky He runs His course,

burning towards His wedding night.


When she’s complete, each cell in place

from darkened sea is called

The land, the garden, each living stone

quarried from the first man’s fall.


From days of old, with love-light lost

the best that she could know

Were shadows, outlines, fading forms

what glory’s left…mere afterglow.


But now is drawn from Adam’s side,

pierced by death and angry sword,

Water, blood and new Eve bride

conceived by love and shaped by Word.


An angled mirror, her true love’s light

in to the darknessĀ  spreads

A foreglow now that rules the night

as little leaven shapes the bread.


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