Posted in Poems

I am

This same story plagued
Many centuries of our being.
Tales of woes
And rabbid foes
Not just folks that made
our bellies turn
Taking after the insanity
Of their profane fathers
But also the fall of nature
That spontaneously released
Savage diseases that ravaged
our bodies, striken with age.

A tale of NOs where we sought approval
Letdowns where all our hopes were planted
Our minds saw trees in our watered nursery
But no, our eyes only beheld the rot and misery
And we have become as it were
The most miserable of all

Oh Eve, you have cursed your daughters
Who have borne sons that toil with sweat
Breaking the ground in hope of labours reward
Oh how you have cursed your daughters whose
seeds are planted in the heat of passion
And their fruits borne with much tears and anguish

The beauty of the skies at dusk
fill our ears with noises of
disintegrating systems and the
folly of the elders

But I have come as light in gross darkness
Releasing colours and fragrant odours
I have come with that by which nothing
dies in my hands
I come with hope for bleak futures
Rewriting stories that once tore our hearts

For I am the breaking of many dawns
in many places an open portal of light
and encounters with the Godhead
I bear His very essence
For I am the work of His hands
His masterpiece
I am the possessor of the world
By the atonement in His blood
I call to be
I exert authority
Disarming the powers that were
yet feign to be.

I am He who was burdened
I am He who was yoked
But not again
For I have believed the promise
Of the seed and I have freedom
I am He who is called the Spirit-Man
Doing the works of Him who sent me
That the land may be healed again

For I carry life
Indeed I give life
I am the stirring of the sleeping sun
The blossoming of the waking flowers
I am the freshness of the garden herbs
The twinkle in the even stars

I am the falling of the morning dew
The sparkle left on the grass at dawn
I am the touch of the solar rays
It’s effect on the motions of nature
I am the calm of the evening breeze
For this purpose I was made

I am He
The Spirit-Man
In whose hands nothing dies

‘Seye Maj

 

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Author:

A lover of Jesus, music and poetry. Wordsmith; 'cos I believe in the power of words.

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