Ambushed

He rode on the cherubim and flew,

  he travelled on the wings of the wind.

                                                    Psalm 17

                                                                                                                     Google Images

During the last light of day,

while evening began spreading

 its' graphite grays 

like chalks of charcoal

across the old, scroll of sky,

while the dark dropped

down the thick steps of the hills

into the soft-chanting fields,

where I remained, uncertain

where I left off or the night began,

as suddenly You came

stampeding down my dark paths 

in the heavy hooves of the wind,

flinging the dust that I am

through Your bright-blinding land.