Once upon a feast of fasting, while I wandered weak and lacking
O'er strides my Lord will take upon the cross.
While I'm sighing, nearly sagging, suddenly, there came a lapping,
As I'm somewhat busy tapping, tapping on my alabaster jar.
"'Tis my Lord," I murmured, "tapping on my alabaster jar.
This begins, and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was great beyond the weather;
And each little wiggling toe bought expensively upon the floor
And eagerly I wiped my hair, and sanely I had took with care
Oil of plenty, lots to share—share from my alabaster jar—
For my Lord the rare and fullest who had called before
My Lord is here forever more,
As I hold tightly to my alabaster jar.
YOU ARE READING
Beating Rhymes in my Headphones
PoetryMy thoughts of depression and happiness is adorned throughout the way I write poetry. :)
