A taste of grace when darkness descends. The veil of evil lifted, if briefly, to reveal the luminesce of beauty quite beyond the reach of fallen man.

The vile and fragile conscience of the broken must examine every crevice, to find the spirit bright, and live.

And to weave the tale of light from the frozen grip of the scribe who fears his ability.

With blows that Lance the inner wound, and stripes that cauterize the bleeding heart.

An ecstasy of agony. He doesn’t know he is only a little lower than angels.

Cheryl Talkington

Cheryl Talkington

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