I have an image of a gray ashen heart, blackish-red coals lumped about. I ask for your joy, for your cleansing with my arms outstretched, but I can't lift my hands high enough when I'm reaching for you my God. Out of brilliant light comes a downpour of your Spirit in the form of pure and radiant snowflakes. They fall in a blizzard as your grace covering me and my ashen heart turns to white. The ash turns to joy and it escapes, flowing from my mouth as beautiful butterflies, full of color and delicacy. They flow from my mouth as a song of praise, surrounded by radiant flowers, exotic, more beautiful than any I've ever seen. As they rise to you, through the brilliant light I see a flawless hand reach down, open palmed to receive it as an offering. My soul sing, how I love you for your cleansing flood of grace!
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