Willowing arms entangle me, in a net, like a fish, in a hedge, like a sheep, holding me.  A prisoner.  Of Hope.  Rough rocks rising up, from sand we share, trip me, stumbling and tumbling, falling, short.  I am caught.  Falling.  Into blue eye skies that see me, we are pooling.  In seas of Love.  

My feet, hands, heart, side.  Pierced with thorn swords.  Flesh.  Hewn.  

Baring Pain.  Stops me.  Catches me.  Baring Beauty.  Still.  Squealing.  From my deep blue depths.  Seaing even in my depravity.  

Glory.  Scars me.  Heals me.  Revealing I AM.  Still.  Singing.  Where Heaven meets my seas.  With Beauty Speakers.  Like me.

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