Contemplating the Color of His Sacrifice

Sitting here,
The solitude around me
Is not just without sound. Its
Silence is painted
In blends of blood-red,
With nail holes and a
Spear puncture
Still softly oozing the
Aftermath of my sins, lo
Two millennia now His cruel
Calvary death, and
Even further back to when
The Serpent forked
Its tongue, and
Adam and Eve were
Cast outside the walls of
Eden’s heaven.

I AM Your Name

(Jeremiah 1:4-10)

It was I Who at the birth of
Creation first breathed upon you
The sounds of your name.
It was I Who first heard the
Letters reverberate
Amongst the eons and ages.
It was I Who inspired
The meaning lain unplumbed
Within these pages.
And it was I Who first kissed
You, long before in the
Womb you kicked as a babe.

Luke 5:16

"But He Would Go. . . to Lonely Places"

The things that I
Think are important, O Lord,
Vaporize the closer I
Get to Thee, like when a
Wisp of Your Breath
Brushes aside a
Few desert grains, and
Eddies a cool,
Running seep reveal.

The Tree of Life

It shone in gold, but
Not just typical gold, but rather
Otherworldly, ornamental,
Finest gold, relocated
From the Garden of
Eden, an earthly
Tree of Life set free
From the consequences
Of the bondage
Of Original Sin, and
Now able to renounce
Night and to proclaim
Daybreak – and to
Promise each weary soul
That hope lives and
Its green shoot glistens.

“Again I tell you: it is much harder
For a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God
Than for a camel to go through
The eye of a needle. . . ”
Matthew 19:24

At Heaven’s Gate

At last I am at the outskirts of
Heaven’s gate, and all remaining for me
Is to cross o’er this narrow,
Tremulous bridge, this bridge of
Terrifying choice – whether, in faith,
To God’s will to totally submit,
Or to throw chaff wildly
Into the wind, and, like a camel, to
Try to thread the eye of a
Needle, in the reckless hope of
Receiving forgiveness from the fingers
Of Mercy’s Seamstress. . .