My precious , King.
Death, He conquered that morn.
Life, in the fullest of goodness,
Out poured, in perfect abundance.
The gift of that 25th Easter,
Of breath and of life celebrated.
Once a miracle,
25 Holy Thursday’s old.
The Archangel Michael held watch,
Gentle whispers, within the northern breeze,
Answers I so longed for; found revealed,
Long before the questions were known.
The baptism of fellow brethrens,
Sent my being reminiscing.
Of times and days that I have lived,
Yet, never truly known.
My infant self was baptized,
The promise made, on my behalf.
Faith was my very first gift.
To Mary, I was surrendered, my Mother and Intercessor forever.
Pray, my first love,
The soul grew with nourishment,
By His promises, I will live.
My young self, that decision made.
As seasons passed,
Faith was tested with tempest and flames,
Love pierced deeper and deeper,
4 years of wondering the hopeless dessert,
4 years of slowly finding and following the guided path.
On my 25th birthday, He placed;
The most precious flowers, in purest charity.
Crowning me, His royalty.
Upon this timid heart, the armour of chastity, obedience and poverty.
“I am ready”
His Princess, in Warriors’ Armour.
I look to Him,
He sees my trembling self,
He knows the failing path,
Yet, within His embrace, His Princess remains.
So afraid I am of this path so narrow,
Your will, my King is my only true desire,
Beautiful paths of this land, I will forsake.
For Your heart alone, do I now live for.
