Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty (Eve's Story)
by Melissa Campbell

temptation shuttles warp with weft

deceptive thoughts in weave like thread

'round heart-provoking taunts.

they probe, they prod

in voice sounds soft, seductive,

so like my breath, whispers

linger scent, sweetly aromatic,

tantalizing my imagination

until I am lost in queenly visions

pleasing to the soul.

i dream there,

where the stage is set and hot spotlight 

shoots rays violently, breaking the dark,

a blinding invitation to stardom.

i can't resist, can't wait to dress the part

in royal robe and iced cold crown,

bow before the crowd and

grasp raw fruit of adoration,

savoring that first bite,

as juice runs down my chin,

so decadent and delicious.

i languish in the light,

then remember

the question is always the same:

did God really say? 

yes, i can be queen.

who does he think I am?

I deserve to reason, 

choose my own destiny,

lead my own symphony,

argue my own philosophy,

concoct my own theology,

debate and determine

what is saintly good

and hellishly evil

all according to me.

ripe fruit drops hard to the ground

landing next to wormy rounds, spoiled,

spotted and bruised from the falling, 

lies there naked, bare,  

hiding in the shadows,

no longer fit to eat.

i, shaken scared, fall asleep

poisoned by the tree

of knowing.

helpless.  hopeless.  having no savior but One.

he reaches low to wormy soil

and rouses my sleeping soul with kiss,
sweet surge of forgiveness,

and lips that once reviled him,

now taste the blood of suffering.

he died my death and lived.

by faith i reach, hold grace,

become beauty,

embody purity,

bleed royalty, 

know as I am known,

his queen.

Linking to Blog Carnival, Jingle's Poetry Potluck and One-Shot Wednesday.

Photo Credit: flickr - Reza