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Death’s Last Invitation

17 Apr

 

My presence is held out to you,

in your confusion and illusion so demanding,

perhaps you can’t feel It, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only grasp Me that tightly!

 

My presence touches you in the sun,

blinded until the peak of darkness comes.

Perhaps you can’t feel It, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only trust Me that sincerely!

 

My presence embraces you in conscience,

with old discussions and new revelations.

Perhaps you can’t accept this, you can’t let go,

grasping things so hard,

clinging to the roots of overturned trees.

Oh, if you could only hold me that strong.

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2 Comments

Posted by on April 17, 2014 in Beginnings, Lent, Poetry, Prose Poetry, religion, Spiritual

 

Tags: ,

2 responses to “Death’s Last Invitation

  1. brian miller

    April 18, 2014 at 10:06 am

    we do cling to many things…all too often trees that have already toppled….missing out on those that still grow strong before us…

    Like

     
  2. ZQ

    April 19, 2014 at 6:37 pm

    Happy Easter Brian <:-)

    Like

     

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