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