We were alone in the twilight morn, I gazed at your eyes and am left forlorn.
Crucifixion, burial… were these not the prerequisits?
Happenstance appears to be my resurrection killed again.
You and I, alone on a hill; I can hear your heart’s thunder must I be still?
Wearily I weep within the viel, as my flesh loses its senses and my soul goes numb.
You’ve said that You love me; I am standing still; weary I wonder: when the wait is over, will I be zealous again?
Are You waiting me out, until my desire – even the desire of Your Kingdom is crucified and dead?
Surely Your purpose will be ressurected.
We were alone in the twilight morn. You taught me Your Spirit; You taught me Your Word. We were alone in the secret place, where visions are made. We were alone in the cleft of the Rock, and you fed me with honey.
My outside is cast among vagabonds, and fiends. My soul wrestles with those who hold conceptions contrary to those things that You taught me in the secret place, but I stand on the Truth for You’ve made my spirit a stone. Yet my flesh that enfolds it is but a rind which is cut, ground and chewed from every side.
How shall I? Will You release me? Can I go fight? May I? As the war horse longs for battle I wait in a stall. How weary of waiting; fire me up, and set me off.
You commanded we pray that the Lord of the harvest would send laborers into the field. Do so! Raise Samsons, raise Elijahs with such power in their spirits they cannot be stopped. Release the contents of Your quiver in a rain of destruction upon the burgeoning enemies’ kingdom.
And Lord send me!