the field worker

Tell me of Your Kingdom
that i may dare to dream
oh, of the stories you tell
of the gleaming wall
the brilliance
the light

tell me of the City
that has no need of the sun
tell me of a people dressed like ivory
and of the throne in a sea

As i sleep, stay near
and tell me of these pretty things
that i may dream
too

Oh, that i would swallow these words
that i would become them
that i would hear Your voice
and like a trance let them move me
destroy and
remake me.
For they are such beautiful
and terrible words
for one such as i

And yet

and yet

and yet…

You sing them to me again
Like rain that streams down my insides
and the names that echo in my head
sound like Your voice

as i lay down to die again
I am resigned to die here
when i wake up between Your hands
i will cease to be
the same