Acidic Art

My Secret Place, With Him

Perfect square-shaped field of grass 

Sparkling with morning dew

Surrounding a centered Silo, sixty feet high

For the 60% Introvert I am

And the thrill of heights.

The fixture stands with checked indentations up until the top tanned dome covering

Just like an old farm silo

From the outside appearance

Where atop, He sees me stand and raise my hands in a V of worship without rails

Because He holds me steady.

There's no door,

As it cracks open when I enter-

Sort of like when The Curtain ripped

And His presence was made accessible. 

As my silo splits, 

I step onto black glass, marbled with grey

And my wandering eyes travel up the black shelves, which stand from the bottom to the top I can't see from the brightness of His glory,

Filled with books of dark red and gold.

The bottom shelf, if I were to open the books, 

holds written documents in my handwriting, and His.

All of our conversations, 

All of our letters, 

All of my prayers, 

Thus far.

The rest of the books are empty;

Waiting to be filled with more

As my life-long walk with Him continues...

In the center of the silo

Stands a 40 foot, extroverted tree stand, much like my Earthly Father's old one

-to redeem what he took

and to show me how I'm "supposed" to be loved

Through my Heavenly Father.

The tree stand top is made of metal;

Strong

Sturdy

with a rhombus-patterned floor

that I could drop my pen through, 

if I wasn't careful.

I climb the spiral staircase of books

Leading me up to the rhombi

where two chairs sit:

The left eternally taken by my Abba

The right, waiting for me when I come to spend time with Him.

This is where He holds my hand while we converse.

No one else can be here

For it only can be seen and experienced

By my Jesus, and I.

I couldn't give it a good enough description for another human to get it Right. 

Besides, you'd probably like your secret place with Him better anyway.