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In The Walled Garden

Thursday, April 27, 2017


Child, where be the helmet made by me?
Forged with blood upon wooden beam.
Wear always for salvation's assurance be.

Is that your shield on yonder tree?
Now how you fall back when you are meleed;
in hand is its place, only then fiery darts flee

Is breastplate and belt under rags and fleas?
Never such a gift before given for free;
uncovered and exposed all darkness will flee.

What's this, no shoes and all bloody toes?
When you were given shoes no year knows;
yet unshod you roam on spikes laid by foes.

This equipment was given so you persist;
yet rather you toil to enter my rest.
Now study for use the sword, I do insist.