by Melody Sumner Carnahan
HE WROTE ME that love yes he did me. He had me for it. Not in a way but the fine true small. The purity of it gave me a drama. He the man was I first entered being. Less whole but completely. I refuse could not his entirely love. It burned a blessing from my instant for a thought. I could see no endanger or evil come from him. He held my numbness flat and spoke himself not. To me became he a prosperity. I will I was now able be. I seek thy say. In the name now not of. In the name of brought he and within our feet to stand. I was gladdened when no further spoke he of it. Let go us then. Further and farther. I died of no evil did only in thy palaces love becoming more than that I could conceive. Only he that may love never me having been to believe so of it. Loving always then and all. Not any one but endure he not of. The thrones of his judgment set me upon. His ability then to defile me my name. Said in a way such of soon he his pleasure. My sincere love not possible he me feared because of my pleasure. Say I will now. Seek I will thy good. I will peace be within thee. But much more within my walls I cannot deliver. Deceiving own his selves not hearing me. My self to free I cannot but offer. My tithes, my devotion, haven’t enough in I for him. To rip me or soil. Not coming. Not. Deceive me he while. The pool into put me. Steppeth down he before me. Whom from I flow no blessings fall. Not the shot. Not the shot fell before me. Never to wish leave you. As much as can he not. Trust but still deceive me open. Answer what prompts him with whole my heart.
From The Time Is Now. © 1983, 1998 Melody Sumner Carnahan / Burning Books