Friday, June 3, 2016

in either wondrous token

Blood is poured and flesh is broken, 
Yet in either wondrous token 
Christ entire we know to be.

We are not good, and yet we seek to become so.

As I eat your flesh, I pray that you eat mine;
devour my pitiful heart,
bore into it, chip away at it,
until the stone inside it crumbles.

I see you just beyond the grate:
I do not see you, per se,
as far as seeing is done with our eyes,
but I can sense your presence
with my heart that is becoming yours
already.

I feel the suffusion of your presence in my present.
Such sweet suffusion; why would I deny it?
I approach you with
light feet and heavy heart,
and
a prayer
that my steps may tune themselves to yours.

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