Your Call

Super bowl Sunday, I stood at the foot of View Park

Dinosaurs stood still as I dug up fossils of faithfulness

Fuel, never dries up, bubbles tar pits La Brea Rodeo to Rodeo

Hollywood sign a future to be screened seen by all

The Famous One, who got it all done – Sun-scorched

Point out, the points of interest, production assistant for Padre

Continuous, unfinished action Messiah rigorous

Trees planted by streams Studio City, the Carpenter

Working Living Words on Sunshine Terrace, The Grove

Everyone knows the guild of grace – the find from kindness

High on a hill looking upon the lowly not wholly knowing why I was there

Skaters in low position flick wood – trick to trick – they rip

Like curtains hung up high – allow us to enter God’s presence

The Signal on a hill – the oil anointed my head

Head of the body, image of the invisible God – Jesus you dropped in with me

Into my pool of filth, wealth of wicked, dead on a board

Made alive in Christ, rise into the air on the other side

Cross country I know who’s my boss, Jesus for us

I am your receptionist how may I direct direct your call?