Dipped in the baptistery
Dipped in the baptistery
or the slow pulling river,
a new creature born in Christ this day,
every day – a dropped hint, a rough image.
To the death required of every new birth,
the mind by its nature remains impervious.
The door to Life eternal is nailed shut
but it can be glimpsed through the keyhole.
What it takes, apparently, to enter,
is every mental construct,
scheme and worry to be left behind –
becoming pure spirit, finer than smoke,
a cipher, zephyr, light as light
while yet in the flesh,
to sift and strain freely through the open,
keyless aperture into Truth and Immortality.
O child of God, you are not the man you were
nor the man you are yet to become.
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