See, the strings of my bow
Have been plucked to a stick.
The candle sinks the fire’s glow
And death is brought upon the wick.
So, as for me,
Reacquaint myself to the likeness of my own.
And, as for me,
Better be it the dead skin rots from new bone.
Proud Father,
My souls for you to take!
No other,
This covenant we keep shan’t break!
Mind you the covenant, I pray;
The second one I’ve never had.
So night goes up
And dawns its dusk in day,
Recall the sentiments
Who kept me a slave to sadness.
Arrest my chains
And meld them with the basins of hell.
For you, my love remains where
I wait for heaven in which I’ll dwell.
Sever the ties
That bonds me to shame.
And resplice in me the chords
Who bear love’s name.
So now is the time and glory
To enjoy God’s gift to the flesh.
I’d rather it be a single story
Which, for earth-time, is forever fresh.
—
Photo Credit: Paige Heaney
