about hidden
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swords can’t be hidden really,
they can attempt to be concealed,
but only to the degree of the garment’s allowance.
it was always right there in plain sight,
hidden for those who could not see,
obvious to those who could.
the feeling of God making it so that you are not seen,
because you are not ready yet,
but that moment nears,
so that when you are seen, it is profound,
that energy,
unique,
one of one,
unlike any other,
realized,
actualized,
and yet hidden,
tucked,
a diamond truly,
a phosphorus illumination in the cave of my skull,
all albeit distraction lays its hands upon naked earth,
before me,
before me,
before me,
an altar.
bowing, bowing deeply to it,
something that cannot be seen,
and so, there is movement forward,
ashes rain down upon wet skin and turn ink like,
awaiting a paintbrush,
awaiting an anointing,
a crown of sorts,
for no one to see,
for only the internal self to witness,
all just to be shared on social media,
and then deleted in a fury of pixelated awe,
for God came into the physical and breathed breath into life,
into the sawdust of whatever turmoil got me here,
unknown and hidden,
awaiting the candle light readiness,
until then,
chopping wood and water bearing,
spilling none,
a retracted sword at hip,
gently swiftly moving through forest,
knee high grass,
awaiting cutting.
just another beginning of a day,
before thee.
before thee.
aho, aho.
I was made hidden by God
until the world was ready for me
and i was ready for the world
During this time, we are kept hidden from public awareness so we may undergo a spiritual journey of cleansing and purification as as to prepare thee for the challenges and responsibilities of delivering the message of Good to the world.
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