Filth covers her face
dirt and grime are found beneath her fingernails
Her clothes are tattered and torn
with stains of debauchery
Pride is written in scars across her heart
while selfishness is the fabric of her clothing
She stands in front of the crowd of demons for a price
A High Price
Her head is lifted as if she is worth a thousand,
or two
But the multitude below dirty and bruised,
snatch and struggle
seizing her for free
tearing her garments
and her heart
to pieces
She cannot fight
Racing through the muck and debauchery
she sees Him, in white
combatting his way through the horde
To Save Her.
Through the mud and dust he is
unrecognizable to her
He reaches her
and surrounds her with his Love
Pulling her from the pit
She is safe - but he is beaten, bruised,
scarred, and stabbed
Blood streams from his face
From his hands
From his feet
From his side
His white robe, now undistinguishable
from its surroundings
But with his last breathe
She is lifted to safety, a beautiful paradise
while he is dragged down to the valley
Shadows of death are dancing throughout the pit
around her savior
This jubilee halts with a crack of thunder
Colors change
The valley becomes a mountain
The dead become flowers
The dirt becomes beauty
And there he stands at the peak
With his arms stretched out for her
And She Remembers
As she runs, the filth is falling
the scars of pride are vanishing
and herself is forgotten
Instead she wears the white gown
He purchased for her
And He stands there
Her Husband
Her Bridegroom
