Jesus, who is this poets whim and light
As I scraped the bowl of my empty intellect and my soul
Looking for scraps to put together into a rhyme of depth
Yet a palatable offering, that spoke to my soul's cravings
Once satisfied for having partaken, of the body and blood
Of The One forsaken, beaten and hung on a crossed tree
I waited for alluvial gems to fill my container
To come dancing on the back of the sparkling river
From the realm of The Great Spirit beyond who created
Where thirsty souls converse with wetted appetites
And my thirsty heart is filled with heavenly manna, raining
In a quite exchange of infinitesimal lights burning
Speaking mysteries through tongues of angels and fire
Where deep calls unto the deep
Where truth is known eternally bright
Where no mysteries exist yet unsolved
Where I know as I am known and can see beyond the veil
Of this daunting mask we have all put on
That is made of flesh, sinew and bone
That burdens and deceives us with its passing visage
And Blinds us from the cure of its many curses
