Divine Love: Immense Joy XVII

Doubting Thomas was I, and saying, “Tell him off, tell him off,” 

Within me, “tell him to fuck-off,” saying, “tell the unwearying Stanley,”

Who pesters you with his sweet nothings;

I said to myself, “Head, discern and think, heart’s weak,

Love is an emotion I don’t want now

Even if God willed for my redemption from myself.”

Photo: pinterest.com

Love Divine, which from itself doth spurn all joy,

The more I willed you away, the more you came close

And I embraced you, felt your heart melt with mine

And our bodies melded transcendentally.

Fix now thine eye deep into the abyss 

Of the eternal love, to my eye

As deep as we might get high!

Me in my doubtings I had no power 

To stop it, not having power to think 

When you laid thine hands on me.

Therefore it Love behoved in myriad ways 

My heart to restore unto loving former self, 

Love Divine, that doth conquer my soul, 

And all its ways to lift me up again.