Thank You
for doing for me what I never could have done:
for taking the pains to kill my self.
On that tree, You plucked me off that old tree,
plucked me up and in,
and 'outside-of-You' is a rack
I will never be stretched on again.
I have counted all the cost of
my will being torn to shreds,
I have taken into account all possible counter-arguments,
counting on countless sacrifices I cannot forecount yet:
You set the conditions, solely, supremely;
let the blood of my feelings, the blood of my reason,
the blood of my body (if it must) be spilled:
I stake my all on You – whatever the rest of the package.
Life' is such a stale, worn-out word
to express what I know, simply know
beyond the shadow of a doubt,
what I wouldn't hesitate to die for:
that all the beauty, being, light, reality
contained in those four letters
could never be found anywhere but
in You.
Nothing compares to this, no universe
without would be worth having. There's
no place like Your eagle's wings, no home
like Home, where Your magnetic
Shepherd's heart will never let me fall
off the iron
Rock of Love.

June 2001