the White Stone - Page 92



the White Stone
page 92
A
t my Chieftain’s table there are many meats.
There is wine and beer and whisky from the high lands.
Have we forgotten how to feast?
Now I am in the service of the Lord,
the One King,
I will eat with Him in His halls and at His table.
I have a hunger for the Truth that has yet to be satisfied.
It is like the hunger of a thousand lives.
I will tear the flesh from the Word of God and fill my belly and my Soul.
I will drink this vital intoxication until I am full.
Because this is what I need.
This is my desire.
Let me tell you about my desire. I do not fear it. It is full like red blood.
It is fair and soft like maiden hair. And it has black wings. Like the raven.
It has been ravaged by wind and storms. And still it will not die. Only
here, in the halls of Jesus can my hunger be set free.
The feast of the Word is ripe, it is succulent and charged with pleasure.
It is not shy, it has resonance, it has pitch and exquisite colour. It turns
with innocence and dark complexity.
It has faith and it has courage. Its patterns are never repeated.
Every instant is new, each one like the dawn of Creation.
Because of this I praise the Lord.
Because He is full of Wonder!

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