February 13, 2011

• As Per Tradition

  

  I believe, at least since 2003, I have composed and consequently posted a poem on my blog specifically for the women of Xanga. I know that there are many out there who haven’t a Valentine on this day and while it doesn’t both some, for others it is a very difficult day. While a poem from some stranger out in cyberspace likely fails to completely negate that, please know that I offer this poem to remind each and every person on Xanga of one thing: that in spite of anything, you are loved. God bless all of you this day. Recommend this little post to those you encounter on Xanga that need that reminder today, for if you are a human being and you are alive, you are loved in a way that you will never understand in this lifetime; I offer but a minuscule drop of that love here.

  -Jacob

   

  For the Women of Xanga on St. Valentine’s Day, 2011

   

  Ah! the spurnéd Lover’s sigh

  that echoed down a gale

  and hurried on His heart’s delight

  through death’s new-riven vale.

   

  Yea they hurried on and on,

  anon, so soon to pass

  came dusk where was meant a dawn;

  wholeness, shattered glass.

   

  His ever-eye yet beheld

  a scintillating sight—

  love’s spark still in each did dwell;

  made He His lover’s plight.

   

  Hurried He, a Fiery Gale,

  to don a veil of flesh

  that His love He might unveil;

  Lover, love—now enmeshed.

   

  Yet asunder Him we tore,

  Death’s vale we forced Him march.

  The Cross of Love He then bore;

  our pride’s triumphal arch.

   

  Yea He walked that lonely mile

  and died as any man

  amid our filth, scorn and bile

  with piercéd foot and hand.

   

  Yet so taken, so Love’s slave

  was He, for us—for us!—

  we didn’t take, He freely gave;

  beloved, Lover, ‘gain do touch.

   

  Now hand in hand we do depart

  into the vale spear-wrought,

  down into the depths of His heart,

  the home we’ve e’er long sought.

   

  • 11:43 pm
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