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Poetry: Discipleship



A Captive of Love


A captive,
I'm a blissful slave
Of One who paid to set me free.

At first I drew a breath of air,
When loosened from my self-styled chains
And ran amid the flowered fields
Beneath the sunlit
Open sky.

But soon
The meadows boundaries
No longer held the same mystique.
And freedom, pure and unrestrained,
Became a tedious, tiresome thing.

Reluctantly, I turned to go,
But as I turned
A new sun shone
And deep it probed
And warm it grew
Until it reached my pale cold soul.

So in the sunlight of His love,
The love He would not force on me.
I choose to find my life and work,
To serve, to slave,
And yet be free.


Ross Olson


Send comments to me at ross{at}rossolson.org

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