~o~
At the sacred oak of Mamre,
At the sacred oak of Mamre,
The sunset’s red and gold
The glowing ball having burned brightly
Takes its break ‘til tomorrow
Underneath these consecrated trees I wait
For the answers to come to me
They had promised they would be here
And in the harsh cold, my wishes, still pending
The footsteps passing by are countless,
And as the orange skies turn dark,
Stranger’s eyes give a pitiful glare,
They know how long I have been sat here
As three men walk towards me
I raise red hollow eyes to receive them
Their gaze so engaging,
Like spears, piercing my heavy heart
Pass me not O’ gentle Saviour
Hear the weeping of my silent heart
For now words have failed me
But tears hardly ever, each drop, deafeningly speaking ten
One takes my calloused hands, resting it in his
“Your time is not now”
His glowing eyes do speak
"But it comes soon, you are a seed on fertile ground"
Once, on my long road to Damascus,
I had received a revelation,
My life had been given purpose
My days to be lived with direction
But my blinded eyes were never opened
And I was led on the wrong path
In a life of blissful ignorance I continued
This route was very well with me, a wide street so boisterous
Oblivious of its dead end
Robbed and beaten
I crawled to the sacred garden, Gethsemane
On knees so sore and bruised
I surrendered
The control-versy battle done
And the true Warrior has won
Now captive to His will,
I have willingly faced my crucifixion
Receiving life anew
Blinded eyes now open, amazing grace sought after me
And found me
Victory marches round Jericho
A slingshot towards Goliath
Backfire in my own strength
Enemy walls stand tall without my Ally
At the sacred oaks of Mamre,
I collect my jars to be filled with oil
The smell of rain to end the famine
Uncertainty is turned to faith
Three Men walk to me,
Lifting up weary eyes to observe them
One takes my calloused hand and says,
“This is not time to pitch up a tent, follow us to Sodom, there are lost souls to save”
~A tale of self-righteousness~
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