His fingers burned light into your eyes clearing the incessant mist, the endless haze. Nothing else could deflect your newfound gaze. No other words or wisdom, no other prize kept you from His touch, your faith and cries Have mercy on me became a flame, a blaze of fingers burning light into your eyes clearing the incessant mist, the endless haze. I begged too, but within a formal disguise. It was petty and false, a kind of glaze over mind and heart, gaudy ways leading me to certain grief and demise. His fingers burned light into your eyes.
Mark Bennion is trying to write a few poems, become a good husband & father, and raise the level of conversation. He teaches writing and literature at Brigham Young University-Idaho.