The Foot of the Cross
The Cross, a signet I freely wear,
no yoke around my neck, nor weight
to keep me fearfully bound; a token of love, a
contract of faith, my prayer for peace and
prosperity, I gently hold or firmly
grip, for the world gone wobbly, out
of sacred round – the Cross, so easy to
sign, only 5 letters to spell...though my
face turned from heaven, at the
vertical base, the foot of Christ’s compelling
sacrifice, focus on His Risen Crown, I claw my
way up from hell.
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