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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387025" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Southern Gospel...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">he carefully pried at the screen<br>with his pocketknife... laying low<br>against the building, almost dissolving<br>in the shadows.<br>the probing lights of cars passing saw<br>nothing, no sign of life.<br>slowly, without sound, he removed the <br>screen.... pushing the window up just<br>enough, he pulled himself up and through<br>the window like a snake.<br>it was some kind of office at the back of<br>the church. he waited a minute for his <br>eyes to adjust. his body hurt, even his <br>soul hurt! every breath cut like a knife.<br>making his way to the door, he slipped<br>out into the hall. the silence was deafening.<br>on down the hall to the sanctuary... opening<br>the double doors, he made his way into the tomb! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>waves of stillness.... and the smells...<br>redemption, morality, and sin... delicious, <br>tortured sin...<br>he slipped onto a bare wooden pew, and <br>the memories flooded back....<br>angels, demons, right and wrong defined<br>on chalkboards by hands that couldnt have<br>been human! <br>scriptures beaten against the mind... pictures<br>of a life he'd never quite found! <br>he took a deep breath, and winced... thought<br>of the hymns. peace everafter, always some<br>distant shore. yet they're often been a strange <br>sense of healing there.<br>he touched the offering plates, and shook his head.<br>the nickels and dimes of salvation, the cost of the<br>soul.<br>standing up, he made his way to the altar... and <br>fell in a heap to the floor...<br>agonizing, he looked up to see moonlight pouring<br>through the stained glass window... lighting the<br>face of Jesus, hanging on the cross...<br>the cold floor seemed to clutch at his heart...<br>his mind opened, and the waves rolled in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eric+Cockrell">Eric Cockrell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387025" data-title="A Southern Gospel... de Eric Cockrell" data-description="he carefully pried at the screen
with his pocketknife... laying low
against the building, almost dissolving
in the shadows.
the probing lights of cars passing saw
nothing, no sign of life.
slowly, without sound, he removed the 
screen.... pushing ..."></div>
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