My dearest little sister,
Into the lovely dream that has been our lives
with all its sweet memories of an innocent childhood,
a curious tragedy has grown.
And all we can do is watch
as we drift upon our convictions,
the fog of fear thickening between us.
I heard a call from Heaven and my obedience felt like death,
because He took me from you, my dearest.
The sorrow drowns me at times
Yet upon this new shore of faith,
I find answers of diamonds and pearls, riches of knowledge and grace
beyond all fathomings.
I ache to share with you this Jesus,
this Jesus who melts my heart and
makes me love you more!
But therein lies the deep tragedy,
For the more my arms are held out to you,
In tender Christian unity,
I turn into a dark ghost of prophecy
spoken by a woman long ago.
My faith is deceived or
Ellen’s visions shatter.
I am fear, confusion and distrust.
I know my darling sister, every word of love smilingly spoken is a prayer,
hoping that I will return to your Christ and the safety of your Sabbath.
Who is this phantom prophetess of yours
who awakes from her grave to pit us against each other?
Oh, that her angel would have pointed its bad fortune towards
Marx or Caesar, Voltaire or Freud,
Perhaps the demon would no longer be me.
Our love for one another? Jesus’ charge is lost in the chaos
of suspicion, last day persecutions and great controversies.
It is lost to devotions and loyalty to God’s appointed,
Which is the utter irony,
For I have also discovered God’s appointed.
Our words halt in fear,
For the bubble is fragile,
Both are certain we know truth, we know God.
Tragedy,
A prophecy that makes my obedience a falling star,
And my faith the villain
And my love, the final deception.
