Listen to poem:
King of Kings
A bountied kiss and reward of its claim
killed a Son and King in a crown of thorns -
not Jew or Gentile would forget his name
nor wash away that holy blood of scorn.
Sole heir to an everlasting possession,
I fear I am lost to your inheritance,
who mute unto my own intercession
wearily keeps me close at a distance.
Was on the carried cross at Calvary
a holy man who lived and died for me?
Truly I wait for such promised things
and the return of the King of Kings!
I wander deserts of famine and drought
and hunger for manna from heaven,
but gravely my roam and victual without
feeds me only on crumbs of leaven.
Save me for a ransom and hear my cry
lest I not see my life’s reformation,
and lift me up lest you leave me to die
in the wilderness of my creation.
Was on the carried cross at Calvary
a holy man who lived and died for me?
Truly I wait for such promised things
and the return of the King of Kings!
Written: August 1992
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