grace.

“If the Titanic was made to sink
Then so was my heart
For I made sure it was impenetrable
Oh, what a wretched man I am
Who will save me from this flesh
Paul whispers in my ear,
“Oh, don’t worry my friend …
You’re in good company”
Poets before me have tried
to measure this love
And if 40,000 brothers cannot
with all of their quantity of love
make up this sum
Then how can my heart contain this mass
It would only burst at the seams into
a million tender pieces
So what then
What good is a broken heart to You
Could you even hear my heart from there
And like a father assuring his son
to come home
“Oh my son, it’s enough, it’s enough”
So who am I to accept this grace
that just falls like rain
‘Cause we all know I chose to lay
my head in this desert
But like a fish out of water
We only know then what it means
to be parched
So if Christ is alive, the love,
and the groom
Then take heed my friends
For chivalry is not dead
For I know no other lover who would
have met me here in this place
So I awake and I rise from my bed
of complacency
Oh, my God I’ve been sleeping
with a corpse
Oh, and these bed sores they still
rest in my bones
Oh, how I’ve made a beautiful dance
with this cadaver but my audience
is appalled
Oh, how strong these tendons
How they desperately need to rip
from this ancient Adam
So light up the s_ and
Set me a flame
Burn this bone and tissue
For I no longer want to be
entangled in this sinew
That hinders my reach towards You”

Bellarive, Tendons

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