A thin line cuts across the mountain tops,

Distinct in its perfection.

Call to me you matchless adornment.

“Where?”, it cries, “Without correction?”


A wanderer, where rests the foremost skies, laid out in a glass so clear.

Fire below, my length from end to end, sadly surfaced to sudden fear.


But how, the weight seems so burdensome free,

While colors drift to a groan.

And somewhere seen to a sea of glass,

The Majesty upon a throne.


Beyond the haze of a death’s darkest day,

A sea sleeps in perfect peace.

To souls rest within a torrid plane,

And a calm which will never cease.


Mingled from springs driven in a world’s lust,

Blood of a Sinless Son channeled.

Shore to endless shore it pours itself,

In grace,

Desire to be handled.


Then to this line a sea of glass appears,

Far beyond the mountain’s wall.

For the souls of Christ in redemption found,

A loving God’s beckoning call.



  Sea Of Glass by Ronhales                                                                                                                      Revelation 15:2

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