True Love is total despair
The lion of fear descends upon my camp,
“Trust,” You say; You frighten him, and he eats his own demise.
Yet still, despair knocks
My heart, the scabbard; despair, the knife sealed therein, even to the hilt
Will I outlive the challenge?
Teeth gritted, the blood pours forth at each pulse
True love holds hands with despair;
Will I survive its company as it descends to my side by this campfire?
I bow my head, and gravity soaks my arms in sticky creeks of red pain
I look for another way, but there is none;
I cry for forgiveness of hidden sin,
Yet the hands of my heart will not let this dagger go.
Hold it in, and do not sin;
The heart will never let go of its precious possession of love;
Make me as You are.
Therefore, pierce me, despair, and never cease;
Flowing blood, paint the grass underfoot darkest crimson gloss
And feel my pulse against your sharpened tip, double-edged dagger.
For my love is true; God grant that my love be like His.
I cannot remove this, so I will face it with conviction
I will love beyond all pain;
God, only grant that I might survive to see spring breaking open the flower’s bud,
That the thorns of love’s rose might not bite and devour the clenched hands around its stem forever