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An Apple and A Kiss

 
You speak the word tradition to demean the sacred
Like all I believe in is a story like a hand me down redemption
When in truth mercy is my daily grave repellent
With death stripped of its sting
Wherein a daily cross is death as a means to achieve resurrection

Wherein the question of age is the difference
Between one manís sense of expiring, paralleled
By a lifetime as a womb in which we achieve divine rebirth
Whoís the fool on the scales of how we define wisdom?
When the world challenges true conviction in an attempt to edit God
Or omit an entire credence for the benefits of the curse

In seasons we submit to the illusion of the joys of our sin
Without the appropriation of provision to outlive the aftermath of self
I die daily and confess with my life before the honor of a day designated
Because life more abundantly is more than a season
And love isnít here to suffice a sweet tooth to indulge the sentiment of a single day
Against 364 days of a Sabbath forgotten for the vanity of a life self-defined
On the terms of the purpose we manufacture at the cost of who we truly are

Dismissed for trending relevance
Gazing at night lightís in place of the stars
As artificial hopes made of vanity
Is blind to the horizon for fixation on emanating shadows
How fleeting the glory of ourselves as grass is to dust and ash
Versus the cross that pre-dates, post-dates, and outdates time itself

For predestination and the crimson blueprints of grace
Outlined as a means to offer salvation
In place of the condemnation we inflict on ourselves
Itís the wisdom of His infinite eminence against that of this age
That finds me a fool in the eyes of man
Yet worth my weight in equal parts the blood of the Lamb as persecution

As I wear the crown of ridicule and endure
In the face of a wayward stone cast
Judged at the hands of a world that rends the servants with the master
Honored to be beheaded on behalf of Love Himself
Betrayed for the purpose of reconciliation
First an apple and then a kiss

As affection for flesh became the curse of knowledge
And the excommunication of God
For silver coveted yet treasure-blind to the Son
Redeemer, commissioned by Love to reclaim the inheritance of us
At the cost of a bankrupt heaven repopulated
Through a narrow path
Like vows inscribed by bloodlines of divine poetry
As we follow Love letters homeÖ
cloventongue89
Written by cloventongue89 (Nathaniel Peter)
Published
Author's Note
This poem is pretty much self explanatory but the title and thing I really want to highlight about it is that in essence our betrayal is born often of our fleshly affections and desires set on carnal...
This poem is pretty much self explanatory but the title and thing I really want to highlight about it is that in essence our betrayal is born often of our fleshly affections and desires set on carnal things or those we love more than God. One enticed another to betrayal in the garden and is reflected in the idea of a kiss like a knife in the back when a Judas kiss echoes the sentiments of a back stabbing by way of love for the temporal.
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