The Dance

Standing before God movement came upon me, flowing into a dance, for Life came through me and danced me, and the dance was the history of my soul. Seeking independence and self-assertion I had risen up against the influences of my Father in heaven and waged war against him. But such was his might I crumpled slowly before him, though I fought desperately. And I lay crushed, yet not completely, for my right arm was strong and withheld him; and a great fire rose in me and I stood, yes, even under the weight of God. With the strength of my manhood I rose up and cast God down and was full.

Then came upon me the devils from my own underworld, as fear pressing up from below, and again I waged war, and pressed them back, prisoners of my will.

Standing before the great multitude of my within I raised my hand in victory, middle fingers pressed against the palm; index and little finger raised in the sign of one who has fought and been victorious. But as I stood before the throng with right arm raised, I knew of a sudden I had been wounded during the battle, and my left hand pressed to my heart as my life fled from me.

And I slowly fell upon the floor of that arena, and knew death. Death lay upon me like sleep, and I dropped willingly into its arms for an uncertain age. But there came in the darkness of death a silent visitor, unformed, unseen, not known, yet felt. For the silence gathered me together out of the darkness. It drew my essence out of the vast ocean of unknowing. Yes, though I had melted like fragrance in the breeze, or ice into the lake, yet It knew me and gathered me out of Itself for very love of me, and brought me forth.

I know! Oh yes I know, for Love showed me, that even if we wage war against Heaven itself, and scatter in dust and destruction the bright atoms of our being like stars across the voids, yet will God gather us from the tideless shore of death, and give us light.

For in the silent womb of death Life came to me and with its wonder stirred me. And it rose up in me, lifting me from death itself, flooding me with life, emerging me from the grave dancing and rising up.

I am a wondrous plant.
A seed in the womb of time.
And you shall know me for what I am,
The very sperm of God.
Raised from darkness to light,
Into the Everlasting.
For winning we lose and are wounded,
And dying we come to life.

Copyright ©2001 Tony Crisp