I'm Woolgathering

Hello dirt, my old friend. How have you been? We are so similar, you know, I was but dirt short days ago And soon I will be dirt again. Hey dirt, it's me. I am your kin.

Thorns twisted ruthlessly into a circle by artless hands Encompass the head of the blameless Christ. Innocent the blood that spills from the crown And pools in the soil below. The blood is Grace. Thunder claps, and Lightning stands upon the hopeless world. He points to a man, struggling up the hill. Weary the tears that drop from the eyes of the man And splatter in the dust below. This man is Faith. Faith stumbles through the rainy wind. Sometimes he is crawling As he reaches blindly for the foot of the cross. And then Grace drops down upon the face of Faith. She mingles with his tears, before falling to the groud. Grace met Faith. Grace met Faith And now I'm saved.