Sunday 4 November 2012

The Ark



Strike the iron and split creations seed,
with force and power that divides, build the
ship that will herald the breath of promise.

Hammer the nails without restraint, drive them
home, tear into ancient veins wrought by time,
Join each worked piece into redemptions frame.

Silent falls the beating rain, drops of wrath
drip down as divine grief greets mankind, in
a gradual dance of agony and pain.

Tainted flesh is swept away engulfed, in
a stream of judgment, the heart of anguish
slowly bleeds, mercy poured out from heaven.

Crucify the plan with hate and lies, nail
his bruised and bleeding body to the tree
made with sweat into the shape of a cross.

Hung in contempt and polluted with sin,
a harvest of pain hidden within flesh,
drowning in a flood of eternal wrath.

The eradication of sins stain, the
final nail driven into a willing soul,
to defeat all that malice held sacred.

Rescued from the poured out anger, granted
life where once was death, a triumph of the
grace given to the undeserving victim.