The cross
Sanitised
Anaesthetised
Compartmentalised.
Served up with a nice little drama
And hot cross buns.
Easier to hear the story
But not let it touch you
Lest you understand
And understanding, lose yourself.
And in losing, find yourself
But different.
‘Different’ has a cost.
You can’t count the cost
Of being lost
Then found.
Found is profound …
Has a different sound
Cause it’s no longer self
But sacrifice.
Of time, of energy, of self, of …
Dare I say money?
It’s giving up movies and books
and music
That don’t fit the new self.
Its time spent with God
A new relationship
That sounds the death knell of the
old
With its coffee and gossip
So what does it profit
Me.
But that’s the thing
There will be no ‘me’
Only … Him.
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