The buried seed has cracked the ground,

The pilgrimage begun!

The spring ties yellow cords around

And drags it to the sun.

The birds bomb scatter-songs of scenes

Where other tiny shoots

Have bubbled into forests green

With waves of foaming roots.

God let me like the flower described

Intent on extra height,

Drink first born Son-shine as prescribed

Pulled up by ropes of light.

Already blood red Pimpernel

You’ve stalled the cart of death

You’ve sacked the guillotine of hell,

And kissed with second breath.

The feathered weft of angel’s wings,

Each jewelled head that turns,

The sceptred skies of planet kings,

The hottest star that burns

Are crazy love-laid paving stones

That cross the sin-stretched miles

And scarlet set cement atones

The path that reconciles.

Yet though the black revolt is quelled

And sin’s against the wall.

Fresh caravans of grace are held

As mortal home guards fall.

For ego leads guerillas still

Who plague the second start,

They sabotage and strive to kill

The re-conditioned heart.

Yet ultimately heaven’s keys

Are mine if I persist,

So purer thoughts I’ll trade for these

And pillagers resist.

Past exemplary saints have bled

With lung-stung nailed breath

And trod the lonely path that led

To empathetic death.

They helped complete in frail flesh

The meal of stale bread,

That Jesus, frightened, tasted fresh

And brought-up with the dead.

And when I’ve chewed my portioned crust

I’ll have the eyes to see,

The hope of glory’s simply just

That Jesus lives in me.

(AJB)

• Christ
• Glory
• God
• Hope
• The Lord Jesus