Above
Lord of morning, how it breaks to be new,
cracked skin sloughed off
and new sewn on:
I have yet to become comfortable
as this thing.
But you still small voice whisper
not in the fire or in the storm
but in burgundy stripes
across the horizon
bleeding fire:
you are finally getting me somewhere
above this, where I have
never thought to be.
![[caedmonscall.net]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/ccneticon.jpg "The quasi-official fan site of Caedmon’s Call.")
![[derekwebb.net]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/dwneticon.jpg "The official fan site of Derek Webb.")
![[rmfo-blogs.com]](http://rmfo-blogs.com/images/rmfoblog.png "About the [rmfo-blogs] service.")