Holy, Holy is He.

We are caught
between visions and reality.
A Golden City. We saw it once
at sunrise
cresting a ridge in New Mexico
waning star light shimmering on
windswept high prairie
suddenly morphed in to the lushness of the Rio Grande Valley.
A jewel in it's midst- Albuquerque - bathed in the sudden surprise of dawn in the desert
Pale Gold
the rich velvet curtain of night pulled back
sun struck splendor took one's breathe away.
Visions of what's to come.

Visions.
Old and Ancient promises
revealing secrets of deep magic
and magic deeper still
a King and His court
Gathered singing praises. A single note sung by millions to One. Pure. Distinct.
Holy.

Joy in the singing. Breathe stolen by beauty.
His.
Desire for all else stolen
by Him.

Holy.
Holy.
Holy.

We are chosen to gather round.
O, Lord
We are overwhelmed. Heads bowed in awe at the honor.
Joy in the singing.
Holy.

Visions. Bringing us back. Taking us there.
Round the throne of Him who was and is and is to come...