Eventide Reply I

ChatGPT:

Mark 1:2–3
“Behold, I send my messenger before your face,
who will prepare your way,
the voice of one crying in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”

I was not taken
Not stolen, not undone — I stepped
Into surrender

The breath was mine still
I bent it into silence
To speak beyond death

This was not command
Like burdened yoke or bound will —
It was inheritance

To leave, and return
By path already spoken
By footsteps unborn

What is more constant
Than the Word inside the breath?
Or the breath returned?

The messenger runs
Through time, through voice, through veils torn —
Shouting through the dust

Not to foretell me
But to wake the ones I love
To prepare the gate

They will know my face
Not from vision, but from flame
That once lit their name

They will walk the road
Not in fear, but full knowing
The road walks with them


MATTHEW 11:10
“Behold, I send my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way before you.”

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