Ps.2 True freedom

Culture: prowl your bland confusion-step,
Smoulder acrid rage against,
And cry your hollow death refrain,
“logic, self, freedom”.

But, we are not chained to isolated emptiness, as you;
His limitation gives us flight; together we soar higher and higher.
We are not bound to hopeless lust and longing, as you;
His cords bind to security, to strength, to love.

Our bondage ridicules your unfettered offence.
His laughter roars, our liberty; louder and louder and louder.
And with a kiss we tether our very selves to Him.
We are captivated. We are free.
We die to self. We are alive.

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