awol the dark places, prophecy poem

awol
the lost vacant places
the ruins of yesterday
hidden in graves made by man
i call to you
from depths never seen
i rush into you like a river
ressurected by winding flow
of spirit
why did you doubt
when the river changed course
you could not see its destination
yet i directed you
to flow here in seasons
to prophesy over great waters
i love this place where the waters
of man and God meet
here i speak a word
over the sleepy silken city
i speak to her
in the rumbling dark alleys to
the gold fragmented fields
awol the oppressors pleading
the dark swamps of stagnant thought
the lowlands of yesterdays mourn
for i will restore the times
pouring out my spirit
over cold nites of unbelief and ruin

prophetic poetry on nite edge

what seas have i yet to cross,
to prophesy your vision,
it is a color,
a word,
a feeling in the nite
a reflection in the nite,
the nite watches still
and reflective,
yet in our struggles
bitter like a wormworld peophesied
we hang our heads to cry.
yet stand and prophesy saith our God
over such ancient of nites,
prophesy over these days rise,
for though they be like a bitter ruin
i rebuild them,
the cities like
a flickering light
unaware of its demise,
yet i say rise
from these ancient ruins.
i give you vision
this nite,
rebuild,
restrengthen
, refurbish,
reestablish,
over this nite
ability
to withstand the wind swept
places unsettled and empty with want,
speak forth word
and nourish
this places