Free Fall in Crimson

by Elvira

the Water                   flows               from the Rock
Sweet, like                              Honey
the Pilgrim                  hides               behind
Nebakanezer:                                     No Enemy
to smite          him, as if
disappeared in thin air.
Yet, as Samson                       gripped by Lust
for Woman,                            I
meditate         on His
Promise:                                              Not of
Earthyl Riches,                                                but of
Love,                           Everlasting.

And, yet
he                                doubts  ―       for Body
feels                the Blood
running           down the chest.
Rushing           Blood,
Rushing           Blood,
Despair
to                                Freefall            in the Unknown
Believing         in the Hands
UnSeen.

May, 2013

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