Heart absent of rhythm or beat.
Lungs that knew no breath.
Eyes that knew no light.
Veins dry as bone,
Bone dry as dust.
Stillborn I came,
And I lived the corpse dream.
But life I could not conjure,
And rotting flesh I could not purge.
Before me appeared a pierced man,
Bleeding himself for my gain.
Coursing though, Holy liquid fire
Swept away ashy bone and vein.
Gone was the drought within.
Drumming its first beat,
My heart took up a rhythm of praise.
Then surged in this being called Breath,
Giving me a command and a name.
"Beloved," he cried...