From new-born cry until we die its need is captivating,
An underlying hunger, pure, profound and inundating
our sweet half-second triumphs as the climax of its praise
dissolves in time’s progression to a haunting, hurting haze.
Even Adam in the Garden and Eve close by his side
in spite of Love’s perfection were not fully satisfied,
lured by the wily serpent to that one forbidden fruit,
hungry for sublime wisdom that would make them wise as God.
Now lust, this Hunger’s enemy perplexes our best
intentions, as the need of It expands within our chest
and though we hold It dearly and we weep to let it go
because of Its outpouring into living’s leap of woe
as vespers strum the twilight limb etched keenly on the dusk
and we, within its gripping hymn our feeble hopes entrust
back to the One who IS the hunger we are hurting for
but somehow trade It for distractions that invade this
stricken shore
as vainly then we fumble with elusive understanding
straining for the Intangible, immortal and transcending
what we cannot acquire without suffering Its price
encapsulating every breath with Its cost; sacrifice.
For Love, Hungers great mystery cannot be bought or sold
yet costs us everything we have Its perfect wonder to
behold.
Can we with feigned politeness Its devout expression boast?
Or divide our allegiance yet proclaim Its uttermost?
The measure of its pleasure is a selfless dividend.
We cannot keep This Very Thing on which our needs depend
yet, in its dispensation it returns ten-thousand fold
if we yield not to temptation Its eschewal to withhold
as Ananias and Sapphira who coveted man’s praise
but were struck dead as Love revealed the evil of their ways;
For Love cannot impart in part; It is That Sacred Whole
untainted if we love the Lord with mind, body and soul,
so Grace descended, for He pitied our hopeless, helpless
state
providing for Himself a Lamb to save us from sin’s Fate
where, from the bliss of Eden, man was thrust to till the sod
and bear the curse of disobedience declared by Holy God.
Now, lust and love struggle and war within our frames of dust
and everything we hunger for returns to this One Must-
Love; the off-spring of Immaculate Conception,
Its fullness, yet unfathomed by our corrupted perception
but, as the heart surrenders in earnest faith and belief
He imbues with Love’s assurances His comfort for our grief
though unleashed demons scream and seek to nullify our hope,
His Love is greater than death’s schemes; and though we pant
and grope
through bogs of fear and failure or through disappointment’s
vale
Love promises forgiveness, for His mercy will not fail
but binds us to Himself; Love. Pray God, how can it be?
We are secured and held by Love; this frail mortality
can fly on wings as eagles, not for boast’s shallow reward
but, because His Love renews our strength if we hope in the
Lord
Therefore, we press against the weight that flails within
our core
for this is not the paradise we were created for
when Eden’s door was guarded
and its Paradise was lost
mankind began Its journey seeking hunger’s uttermost,
Its evidence is everywhere in nature’s diadem
The Keeper of birds of the air and every floral gem
instills in us awareness of a greater Presence where
Faith is the substance of its hope; its fellowship is prayer
And as the flower of the field blooms then returns to earth
So are the days of man; what is life’s meaning then or worth
if we forfeit eternity while searching for This Thing?
Yet, God so loved the world He died Its fullness thus to
bring
To every woman, man and child who was, is, or will be
Love gave His life to pay the debt of sin and set us free
And even now this Hunger wails and groans for His decree
That we should love each other just as Love loves you and me
The tactics of the human heart are deceitful and vain
With lips we utter white-washed words while our thoughts
disdain
the mouthed profession spilled to satisfy the ears of men
when we are stinking sepulchers of lust and greedy yen,
forgetting that Love knows the heart; where our passions lie
and we will meet Love face to face when our bodies die,
Then we will never hunger for this aching filament
of Love that transcends everything beneath sky’s ether tent
For there, the crux of every want, of every wish and whim
Will bow before the throne of God and we will worship Him
And every vile schismatic will weep for the utter loss
Of shunning He who bled redemption in red rivers from the
cross
But now the day of Grace extends so we may find its peace
See how each season folds, end synchronizing with release
Until Its folded moments chart a day, weeks, months and
years
And then, that final, faint half-breath when Time’s grace
disappears
Where nothing but Time’s living proof will testify our love
As we come face to face with what our speech cannot disprove
For Love will seek to find our names written within a Book
of life; where he records the precious hour when we took
our brokenness before Him as we uttered ‘I believe’
and then according to His word we have come to receive
the inheritance promised as our sins were washed away
and Love at last is perfect in this Everlasting Day
© Janet Martin
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