So many meaningless platitudes
Resurgent and brimming with light
Continue to flow while attitudes
Reflect the insidious blight.
.
.
Actual meanings are hidden so well
Sound like a meaningful flow
Of eulogy whose preponderance
Ascends in the afterglow.
.
.
Of warmth and condescension,
There is nothing left to surmise,
Except the insidious flow of bull
That may take you by surprise.
.
.
I trust you are not shocked out of your socks.
I trust you can still empathize
With a suffering, wounded soldier,
So you will not criticize—
.
.
A real scream of pain and agony,
I do not want to relive this plot.
I know that another suffered for me!
An agony I could not!
.
.
So what is the point of dwelling on it?
Except to say that I had never
Begin to consider the price He endured
To gain my salvation, ever!
.
.
Innocence means nothing at all
Except as applying to Him.
Not innocence, not sinlessness,
Not even with Christ within.
.
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His sinlessness is imputed to us
For we do not deserve nor earn,
Whatever we have we received from Him!
It is either receive or burn!
.
.
Such a simple contemplation!
Of course, we do not want to burn,
Two broken ribs is pain enough! (*)
I will go with Him, “So I will earn?”
.
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So sorry! It cannot be earned, you see
It is a gift from Him to me!
Freely receive, I must! Cannot earn.
My love for Him too is free!
.
.
(*) especially when you cough or sneeze.
.
.
Sam Cox 7.6.05.
