At the Gate

The seeds have long since been carried away in the breeze passing along a message which can only be interpreted by those waiting for instructions. They look under rocks or they turn to bushes hunting down words for guidance or sometimes a place to hide. The rocks cleft will provide a refuge like a strong pavilion. A place to bandage their wounds or to fly away to rest.

The message scattered abroad searching for the right ground. The composition scripted in code, only the seer can interpret the meaning or someone possessing the words of knowledge to speak words of faith. There first must be an offering a prelude to go before the message. The heavens will loose it's divine will once the seeker has offered the right sacrifice. It's amazing how many come this far and refuse to bow or ask for mercy.

The seer interprets the vision and lays their hand on the seekers head. The past and future all revealed the load of guilt relieved and hope somehow passes through the palm of the hand.

All in the sanctuary are pleased they praise in the tabernacle. They find peace at the gate and strength at the door. Grace standing on one side and mercy holding down the other, they turn in wonder, they leap with joy.