bid me, come and die, wonderful

hurricanes press in

upon the land where we lingered

where the Voice bid us

bid

me

come and die

my soul’s Lover beckoned

the day we

traipsed

over graves

gawking at the whole realm of nature

mine

but fleeting

cracking

severing

undone at the weight of glory

or

the consideration of it

thorns compose

and gates prevail

or do they simply make all who gather here

fear

stymied bars of sin

too thick to draw near

and yet

sorrow and blood

mine and His

mingle

the vine and branches weaving into and through and

beyond

death’s

sting

grace

draws

near

and

near

draws

grace

mossy aching

much to small

hope distant

unseen

eternal

amazing

divine

unworthy of my contempt

my

pride

demanding all

all aching

is His as He watches

as I traipse

we

traipse

careless

unbelieving

over the promise

mingling down love perfect

to meet

our impossible

sorrow

wonderful

cross

indeed

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