Life in the Regeneration

the fog of carnal know how

from birth

is a bitter state of heart

deep within

 

where only the immaculate

precision surgery

of the sword

coming from the mouth of a lion lord

can articulate

the lack of real belief

 

but the bitter stings

of the swings

of a loving tongue

equip, in our lowly state,

the strength

to look beyond the dieing day

to the everlasting dawn

 

to attain true blindness

of the flesh

to sing abreast

the marvelous burst

of rising, like a lion roaring

 

with praying hands

we take this life

and burn in sacrifice

 

the sum, the part, the whole

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