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Coming out of the fog
to cross the sea on log
the eastern to the western shore
you’re at last relieved from an enormous storm
with all its salt and sand
reaching equally inland
washed my headstone white and clean      Rev 2:17
still a sight more pale and mean
than the hell I raised the night before
I must own that I have never seen
one like you before
at once my face and fetters fell
my name I tell
your love breaks my spell
no more to dwell among the assembly of tombs
wounds bleeding with the harvest moon
I’m a slave exclusively for you
my landmark in the dark

story taken from Matthew 8:23-24
Mark 4:35-41, 5:1-20, Luke 8:22-39

~ §tacy §weeney
Published 2015/03/23