The Beauty of Easter


The whispers of that morning.

They echo throughout eternity.

Their voice launches from trees, from the ground.

Shouts of adoration, praise and glory.

The birds give harmony to the shouts of joyful discovery.


I stand with no words. I bow with nothing but myself.

Desiring to only be an echo of that same refrain.



With us.

Born out of love, handed over to suffer.

All for me.


The morning after the rejoicing and exultation.

I carry the shouts still within me.

The Resurrected King is resurrecting me.


All photos taken by and property of Sara Stacy. Permission to be used elsewhere is not allowed.

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