The Headliner of Heaven

Sometimes we listen so hard

That we miss the thunder

Because thunder wrapped itself in silence

We are all participants, knowingly or not…

Attendees at the concert of God,

The headliner as the Beloved,

Yeshua singing the perfect ballad,

Creation itself being His stage,

Instruments mortal and eternal,

Playing perfected lead guitar,

Their Electrified souls serving as martyrs,

Amplified solos so searing and beautifully broken,

That they can perform but once a lifetime,

Their sound a life overshadowed by Glory.

Joining harmony with the sacred dead

Acoustic rhythm with modern monks,

Strumming a refrain of Holy abstinence so pure,

It liquifies love.

Making it trickle down cheeks as tears.

Prophets garbed as sound engineers,

At the boards for global proclamation,

Producing and proclaiming carefully

Curated calendar dates for concerts

Pastors in rugged roadie attire,

Leading the late stragglers to the show,

The returning tour of our Savior,

Featuring the Holy Spirit As venue and performer both

With intercessions being offered as concessions

For the souls eating and listening

In the amphitheater of present Presence

Partaking in the One,

Musician as Savior,

Yeshua