Interpret for me what God has spoken,
the clear, sublime whisper of sunrise bright.
My mind bends my heart, a place dark, broken,
incapable, blind to perfect insight.
Battered, bound to a strangled soul in death,
my life is forfeit through the biting curse
that pursues me, eating my very breath,
as hope eludes the good, becomes the worse.
Reserve me the morn when this pitiful,
lonesome thing - a man I cannot call it,
emerges, changes from the abysmal
through a delivery not decrepit.
Following the God-Man, the Grave-Walker,
his life becomes mine, a hidden transfer,
Father-arranged, he the great Soul-Stalker
who subtly overrules the Saboteur.
So that with new ears, open, I can hear,
So that with new eyes, open, I can see,
the Word made flesh, the God who cried a tear,
and fall, to kneel, groan, and cry out Glory!
©Eusebeia Philos 2012