Ordination

Ordination [2nd revision]

Beneath Golgotha’s climb,
He falls under the weight of mankind,
descending for a final time.

Face set as flint toward every grave,
breathing into the dust,
prostrate before the ascent,

He gathers pain and agony
in one breath and rises,
all weakness become all strength,

to slay mankind’s old enemies,
Sin and Death–to chain the strong man
and plunder his house.

Ne Respicias Peccata Nostra

Ne Respicias Peccata Nostra

I look on the days
of your spring blossoms
when my dawn,
lighting the dew
dripping off your leaves,
warms you to open
and the fragrance
you pour forth
draws my view
when I drink in
the dear, sweet delight
of all you offer.

Never will your thorns,
about you all the year,
be more to me
than those days
when your fragrance
draws my gaze,
calling me close
as you open to me,
so I may know you
so much more.

Crown of Riches

Crown of Riches

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and none heavier than his who, upon embracing the final grasp of gravity, came to rest, blood streaking from the lacerations of thorns and falling from face to flood the tomb of Adam.

From the grasp of gravity to the grave and beneath the foundations of all tombs, this, the man, the son of man, goes back again to the Earth–not naked as Job, but armed with the wealth of gems upon diadems upon gold and silver seven times refined, armed with the wounds of the thorns on his brow and the thistles that wounded men since the angels took their stations to watch the gates of paradise.

Embedded in the precious Crown of Charity–Crown of all Love that is True, these riches ransom all those captives who waited, watching, to be called to that mansion prepared for them in the promised land.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, heavy beyond the depths of the grave, the crown casting the light from the fire that makes molten even the most adamantine chains. Fire of his heart–true passion–blood streaking from the lacerations of thorns and falling from face to flood the tomb of Adam.