Passions for Persians, flesh for flaws,
hearts to burn.
The coldness of hot air flowed out of my nostrils
bruising through the valley of my philtrum.
She looked at me with a symbol of invitation to take on the city.
Her lips were slippery with coats of red and her eyes glowed like diamond.
My heart raced to catch up the demand for the flow of blood and body fluid down the middle belt.
I felt a mighty rush of reinforcing fluids through the cavities of
the middle man between the groin estate.
I watched as he stood tall, willing and ready to invade a city
that belongs to a Savior, though the possessor knew not. A city the resident calls His temple.
She beckoned on me like the droll of Delilah just before the hair of the Nazarene was shoved.
I stood in awe as I was challenged to tear down the veils of her temple before even the cross receives its own.
Without was calmness like the evening in the shores of Hawaii beach.
Within was chaos like the night Hitler pulled the first shot and the mighty tempest of Hurricane Katrina.
My mind wobbled as thoughts played out fast through the dark alley in my head.
On one side were loud chants of persuasion filled with reasons to take up this challenge.
On the other was a still small voice reminding me of the cross.
“If you don’t speak loud enough, I’m going to pick up this challenge and take up the city” I said to the voice.
I pitched my tent on the hallway while looking at the city and waiting for the Groom to pick me up.
Little did I know that this wasn’t about Him going over His act again but about me working out His act.
Flashes of lightening and colors of rainbow. The dew settled on the withered leaves as my body submits to
my heart. Like the sound of mighty rivers flowing through the desert, love and compassion of my Savior
filled my humble soul. Veins within me dilated and gave way for tears of His grace to come through
my eyes, flowing down the mountain of flesh and lust, bringing down all thoughts and imaginations
that have before now exalted themselves against the knowledge of my Savior.
The center could no longer hold for the villain who worked his acts through the middle man between the groin.
The middle man now listens to the heart that now bows to the Groom.
I watched as the worst of me becomes succeeded by the best of You.
If love endured the ancient cross, how precious is my Savior’s blood.
If having my heart was worth the pain, what joy could You see beyond the grave.
If love paid it all to have my heart, what else can I hold back from Him.
The beauty of heaven wrapped in my shame, the image of love upon death’s frame.
The passion that tore through hell like a rose. The promise that rolled back death and its stone.
The love that picked me up from my dirt, and open the knowledge of His will to me.
Like thunder bolts and the swiftness of the Cheetah, I lifted myself to flee from her presence.
Slamming the door behind me I felt the rush of cold wind embracing my poor soul like the return of the prodigal son.
I pledge my allegiance to the cross. I no longer walk nor live for myself.
I refuse to trust on this ‘tent’ that continually seeks its own.
Oh, that I may know Him more and more and more. Oh, to be kept by Jesus!