Jun 30, 2011

The Song

He found her in the streets. 
A beggar child, singing the songs of darkness in the company of wicked.
A child in rags with a voice of the broken.
He loved her, so He called her to Himself with a sweet song.
A song of affection.
A song of new life.

She responded. Ran to Him.
Away from the songs of death in the streets.
And He sang her a sweet lullaby...
clothed her in luminous white...
named her His own.

And she loved Him. 
She danced with Him...spoke with Him...learned at His feet.
He brought her into His music room and sang His song to her. 
A love song from His heart to touch the deep things of hers.
A perfect melody that spun the colors of her dreams into brilliant visions.
Over and over He sang it. 
He sang it as she played, as she walked, as she slept.
He sang it until she knew it by heart.

She sang His song over and over to herself. 
It became as much a part of herself as herself.
A princess in royal robes.
A girl with the voice of redemption.
Singing the song of her King father.

Then she heard the call of the streets. 
A melody drifting through the open window.
A song that got stuck in her head.
It haunted her...
And she did not command it to leave...
She hummed it under her breath sometimes.
She dreamed of it at night.

It drew her.
Stronger and stronger it called her.
The song of the past...seductive memories of the past.
So one night she went.
She followed the voice of remembrance.
Back to the streets.
"Just for one night." She promised.
She left the gate of the palace...
She didn't return that night.

She thought of the king...and promised to go back to Him...tomorrow.
Then she lost herself in the pleasure of the moment.
Whirling to the tunes of danger in the company of the deceived.
And the King father watched from His window.
His tears dropped on the sill, as He watched.
He sang her song. But she couldn't hear above the noise. 

She enjoyed the streets.
Or said she did.
Until a morning dawned and she saw herself clothed in dingy garb.
No trace of the luminous white robes.
Alone in the company of the wounded.
She tried to sing the song of the king...
She couldn't remember the words.
Her voice came out a sob.
The melody was choked in shame.
So she cried.
She cried for her Maker.

And her Maker heard.
He heard and rejoiced.
He raised His voice.
He sang a song.
Loud and pure, He sang it.
The little beggar girl heard.
Through the fog of deception she heard.
She lifted her head. 
Guilty, she was. Ashamed.
Afraid to even look in His eyes again.

But she ran.
Ran from death.
Ran from deception.
Ran as fast as she could from the seductions of sin.
Ran to the palace.
Ran to the song...her song...the song her King was singing.
Ran straight into His arms.

And they cried...
And they sang...
A duet.
He sang with a voice of forgiveness.
She sang with a voice of gratitude.


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