from the beginning

even when I carried the cross— I still carried the worlds in my pocket.

when i consider who You are within little me
and how full You are containing little me,
i must bow to the heir of all things
to the Maker to Whom i am returning.

now You, the Final Word
speaking now through vocal cords,
saying things like “count the cost;
is it worth it to gain the world
and watch your soul be lost?
store up treasure where moth and rust
will not destroy
no, no thief or devil can steal 
heavenly joy.

now i hear, “even the spheres, 
spinning like records round a star,
their time, place, near and far
is according to Me.
for should I choose,
I could wear them like jewelry,
dangle jupiter, mars, neptune on a string, 
letting their vibrating beauty extol Me
(as it should be);
I chose rather to give them names,
treat them like sheep whom
I lead in and out again.
can you number them?
can you tell if one is missing?

I shepherd them to quiet streams, yes,
even little infinite things like these.

“could it be,
that you would think to comprehend Me?”
as my ears ring with prophesy,
“don't you see?
this was My genius: I founded you.
(not the other way ‘round)
with bleeding hands,
bruised chin,
unbroken bones,
crying breath,
I found you out—
and you thought I was hidden?

I came to you,
from unimaginable heights
to incomprehensible depths,
I shrank,
becoming little
without becoming less.
do you not see this was easy for Me?
it’s My world; I’ll do as I please.
I am the fashioner,
a world-maker,
I breathe divine glory;
a word from My lips and I rewrite your story,
things begin or cease,
the incomprehensible written into comprehending,
(and you thought you found Me?)
even when I carried the cross—
I still carried the worlds in my pocket.

still my spirit stirs, “was it a rouse 
that no one came to my rescue?
that by My command
thousands of jealous angels
didn’t come in and tear this world to shreds?
(and did you think this allowed
 a sort of indifference to sin
that you could come
and ‘ask Me in?’)

“oh, child, I came unbidden, 
unwanted, like a lamb led to slaughter
by a love-drunk father, a shepherd to His alter,
just one match—a spark—now I burn forever,
all authority, all power, all glory, all together
with your hand in mine, we’ll rewrite time,
unravel terrors of night, and dream
a dream of a dream once forgotten
once remembered, once reborn, twice forgiven
thrice beloved, thrice entwined, thrice enthralled,
thrice made Mine, 
thrice and once just a way between
the great hallway of love to the throne of King”

thrice He smiles, yes, my ears still ring;
“don’t think for a moment, child, you found Me: 
this was all My idea from the beginning.”