Monday, March 19, 2018

I am His

January 5, 2012 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles

I am His

I am His and He is mine,
Together we will dine.
The beauty of His robe, the radiance of His eyes,
And the proclamation on His thighs.
I am His favourite, His desire, His lover, His beauty, His bride,
He beckons me to come, He calls me to His side.

I am His favourite and He is mine,
And together we will dine.

For I am His bride, beautiful, spotless,
Pure, radiant, without blemish.
I am His desire, I am His, for me He yearns,
The groom, my lover, His passion, His heart, for me it burns.
When He fixes His eyes on me all else fades away,
Jealously, with hunger my lover wants for our wedding day.

The Spirit and the groom unite and ask me to come,
For I am His bride, His desire, His lover, I am undone.
For at the feast I will dance at His side,
In His strength, in His glory, I will be His bride.
In His heart, in His arms, in His embrace,
I will love, I will know, I will see Him face to face.
There I will be, there I will express, there I will worship, from
deep within His glance,
Hand in hand, hearts together, twirling eternal dance.
Undone, empty, unblemished and pure,
In His arms, his bride, loved and secure.

For I am His and He is mine,
And together we will dine.

For I am His, beautiful, unblemished, ripe, lovely, spotless,
pure, pleasing,
His favourite, His lover, His desire, His bride, His burning.

For I am His and He is mine,
And soon we will dine.
Emotions entwined,
Feeling divine.
For I love Him and He loves me,
And that is the way it is meant to be.
I love Him and I can’t let go, I love Him beyond dignity.
I love Him in His might, I love Him in His power, I love
Him in His serenity.

And He chose me above all the rest,
He chose me, I’m His best.
I am His favourite, I am His, He is mine,
And together we will dine.

Understand this, seek this,
I am His.

New Zealand born Kelvin Fowler is a poet, pastor, storyteller and cyclist. He has lived extensively with the world’s poor and counts amongst his friends, homeless, transvestites and orphans. He has lived in a cardboard house, on the streets, and presently lives in a red brick former Soviet apartment building. His poetry reflects the adventure that he calls life. Kelvin has been published in numerous literary journals and can be contacted through his blog

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