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Messengers

by Christopher Bissett

I’m expelled, but still remember

My greenhouse garden start.

I have put away my itching ears

But not my hungry heart.

 

When Father’s servants minister,

I break forth in praise.

The doctrines of the priesthood

Fill, distil, amaze.

 

I accept your men with open arms,

And will submit to no other

But I am also looking for messengers

From Mother.