Honeyed Words

His words flowed,

sweeter than pure honey,

liquid gold, 

as alluring as a young woman.

The words promised much,

yet behind them one could sense,

the hiss of the serpent.

“Just listen” the voice spoke,

“I will set you free” 

As shackles are clamped,

onto ones soul. 

I AM, spoke once,

in the mists of time.

Creating life, 

free of fear,

the honeyed voice,

showers with promises,

the voice that spoke creation,

lost in the voices of Babel,

yet, the glimmer of love,

breaks on the horizon.

Grace, purer and sweeter,

than anything he could say,

flows freely, 

shattering the shackles.

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