Weeping is the willow

Winding is the street

Wanton is the lust

that comes from me

It’s my being


That is what

God talks to me

In my flesh

This eternal Being

Sees me

As I am


Encapsulated in corpulence

Ensconced in that which

Ever since

Drawn from clay

Has been

Against me

spirit man.


I love the Lord

Yet in me

There remains

No converted thing

Deathly flesh

Deathly being

The dirty thing

From which we spring


God sees

Choose Him

Over our very being

And the death

It brings.

Dust to dust, dirty things.

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