Poetry

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Words written, some in flowery script,
Others with backhand slant,
A message conveyed -- put forth to one,
Some timeless, some elegant.

Stroke of a pen -- calligraphy,
Pursuit of joy and life.
For “we the people”-- a document,
Freedom birthed in strife.

But there is a greater Writing,
A Message sent from God.
He’s the Word from the Beginning,
Root from dry ground, Jesse’s rod.

The Word from the Beginning,
Was deity and with God.
Through incarnation became a man --
This Composition unflawed.

His writing, in this human form,
Not beautiful but despised,
Bruised and wounded Penmanship,
A Testament revised.

Stroke of the whip -- He wrote in stripes,
With scourging this Word was penned.
Grace and Truth was stricken by God.
The notice read “Condemned”.

There was no shorthand shortcut,
No rough draft practice writing.
The final copy, once for all,
A pleading Word -- inviting.

Naked Word, cursed, on a cross
For me -- sin He became.
Then the Word from the Beginning,
In blood -- He wrote my name.

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