Friday, December 17, 2004

The house of wine...

Here is a prayer poem that emerged out of a combination of Song of Solomon and John 2.
They wove together like two sticks of incense rising heavenward, mixed with the weeping of my weary soul.
Most of my prayer life takes this form...so, like a caged dove, I release it and pray it will find its next perch...at His ear.

House of Wine

12.17.04

I have no more wine.

Take me to the house of wine.

Strengthen me...refresh me...for I am faint with love.

My soul is weary from the journey.

The winds and rains of the night lie heavy on me.

Cold and damp are the locks of my hair.

I see the warmth of your chamber; smell the fragrances of your bed.

My soul longs for the companionship of other moments.

I reach out and knock at the door.

I have drunk the last drops of the good wine.

The drink of the moment is a poor reflection of what was.

I long for the drink that you poured for me so freely, so graciously, so unexpectedly.

Drink that spoke to me.

Drink that mesmerized me and mystified me in its potency.

Oh the glorious taste that swept over my soul.

Such delight, such promise, such a dream was born in its delights.

The dark red hues, the swirling fragrances of your coming.

These enraptured my dry and listless soul.

The warmth of your love burned within my chest.

Like a fire that seemed to have no end.

A heat that turned my blue blood hot.

Where are you my beloved?

I opened the door.

I rose from my bed.

I threw out all sense of discretion.

I wildly embraced the call, the knocking.

I came to you.

I crawled from my slumbering palace.

Our luxuriant couch.

I threw open the door

With all the passion I could spill upon you,

I opened to embrace you but you were gone.

You faded into the night...

Only your voice lingered with the spices and oils on the handle.

I stand here searching the blackness again.

My cup lies splintered and empty on the ground,

Where my heartsick soul left it.

My hungry eyes peer hopelessly into the future...wondering, dreaming, and hoping again.

Am I up to the journey?

Can I endure the path again?

Love's madness overcomes me like a thief,

Stealing my apprehensions, my aspirations, and my present for an unknown path.

I long to venture from my chamber into the darkened city after you.

I have no more wine.

I dream, and hope against hope that...

You have saved the best till now.


2 comments:

mat said...

No soul can preserve the bloom and delicacy of its existense without lonely musing and silent prayer: and the greatness of this necessity is in proportion to the greatness of the soul. - Dean F. W. Farrar

FCB said...

Man that was good stuff Eric, let me into the prayer closet!