Feast

Feast, my dear Lord, on my rotting flesh;

My putrid decay, my stenching corpse.

Pray, pulse me with maggots as I lay,

Leaking sin, staining this pure, pure spring.

I'm Robbed

I've been burgled by two—no, three.

Three women looted and plundered me.

They took not what I had—I gave.

They took me, and took me, depraved.

Why worry?

Beyond belief—

Beyond knowing, and knowledge not trust,

God is—our God.

Nothing is, there is nothing we can do,

But by Him, and through Him, and to Him.