He ran...

The Father sat with His 

eyes on the road,
everything slowed, 
His hope unbroken,
and heart wide

He blinked twice to see 
a single silhouette,
it was His own son
 that He could never

He stood in a hurry,
 his walk became a run,
eyes full of mercy,
 He didn't care what 
had been done
 for life had now 

Dirty from all his
 worthless deeds,
the Father had everything
 to meet his

Wrapped Him in a 
tight embrace,
 forgiveness to lift
 up his face.

A robe over his shoulders, 
sandals for his feet,
ring on his finger and 
his own home 
down the

Let us celebrate 
with a feast,
the lost is found,
the outcast crowned,
the prisoner 

Enough has been said
this son of mine has 
come back from
 the dead.


He ran...

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