He builds you a cage
making the walls out of honey and dew to lure you inside  
Putting in windows only to then glue them shut
He shouts “you can leave whenever you **** well please.”
Relishes in punishing you with black magic-
that leaves you dizzy for days whenever you try
Wilts the flowers you grow for company
Convincing you it’s your fault they always die to begin with
“If you would just be good maybe I wouldn’t have to do this.”
laces you up with ribbons and spider silk
Reworks you until you are docile just in his image
He’s a dead ***** necromancer and you're the best of both his worlds
always on the cusp of being half alive
He takes to gathering bouquets of your dead flowers
placing them on the windowsill
His voice renaming and whispering spells to them
every time he visits you
until they are gleaming once again
eventually you see this act for the warning it is
Sitting pretty and doe eyed
You now only shimmer and shine if it means he will let you stay

- You’ll learn one day that this is not  happiness

Although I’m still clay,
upon God’s pottery wheel,
He continues to mold me.

Fashioned after His image,
He reworks this human vessel
to accomplish what He sees…

in the combination of gifts
that were previously bestowed,
into this elysian creation.

Mirroring Christ’s brokenness,
I can share in His suffering,
from fully embracing Salvation.

Free of the law of sin and death,
my unveiled face radiates His Love,
as I am ‘taking back the land’.

Living under my Savior’s authority,
I am forever grateful and thankful-
to remain permanently in His hands.



Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Matt 5:1-16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.