A weeping soul, as a broken chair
Awaits the hands of the Carpenter,
Calloused, beckoning and sincere,
Ready to mend His worshiper.
“Come to Me, oh beloved one,”
The Carpenter invites with eyes like coals.
Heart afire, the shattered soul comes,
Reaching out as his Master takes hold.
“I cannot promise painless healing,”
He whispers, asking “Do you truly believe?”
“Yes,” he sobs out while kneeling,
Before the Master, saying, “I would not disbelieve.”
As glorious restoration flows,
The Carpenter continues His craft,
Hands steady with eyes aglow.
The soul waits as He mends the cracks.
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