walk in noble pomp
crusted and laden with finery
protected with layers of men,
swords, palaces, titles,
ceremonies, traditions, and splendor
Ring upon glorious ring
surrounding
frail clay
easily smashed, like a child's toy grown brittle
Strength
protecting
paper-thin weakness
My king, when first he came
lay helpless in the straw
His titles: "bastard","refugee", "orphan", "working man"
paper thin frailty
plastered against broken world
Casing of vulnerability
protecting
unfathomable, majestic space
Do you wonder that I love him?
The kings of earth prove their power
flaunt their might
take their rights
casually
As a man plucks a plum from
a passing tree
consumes the juicy sweetness
and tosses the pit away
My king
made himself nothing
surrendered every right
As a hungry man plucks the last plum
from his own tree
and gives it to a beggar
saying, "take the pit,
and plant it. then you also
will have plums to give away"
Do you wonder that I love him?
For such a man
to drop your nets, still dripping, and pad
barefoot
down the street after him
your eyes fixed to his back--
this is the only reasonable response
Such a man you follow to the end of the world
and
arriving there with nothing,
count yourself rich
Such a god you would never
dare to imagine in your wildest
dreams--only kneel, voiceless
in worship
when He appears
