woman ablaze

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i am the girl on fire. 

i am the woman ablaze.

or at least, i want to be. i want to walk a path once dim and watch it glimmer as the lights flicker into being and line the steps so that others can come after and not trip on the stones. 

i love the moon and the stars 

almost more than the sun.

it's a softer light, not blinding. i can gaze upward when the moon shines gentle and whispers hope better than when the sun leaves spots behind my lashes, even when they're closed. 

and that's what i want to be the world. soft light pointing to the Son that comes in the dawning, not a second sun that comes where it shouldn't and speaks too loud and too blinding for the world to understand. 

there is beauty in the soft light. beauty in the candlewick as it flickers in the night, the softest glow that illuminates the eyes and the heart and the soul. the Word was penned by light of wax and string dipped and twisted together, gentleness on fire. 

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because we're all about the megaphone these days. all about the fist-banging to startle the sleepers and frighten them from their daze. 

but don't you rather it when a hand gently touches your shoulder, a soft shake to rouse you and guide you from pillow to daylight? there is a time and a place for the brightness that overwhelms, and there is a time for the caress of tenderness. 

we forget. yes, He toppled tables. but there was soft weeping, too. 

oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem. 

how I longed to gather you to Me....

i am the girl on fire. 

i am the candle ablaze. 

and oh, i long 

to be the moon that heralds the Son.