User:Joe Spencer/given Place to be made Holy

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  given Place to be made Holy
  
  my via sacra (sacred way):
  what ties my journey to this day,
  and day to God, hence, God to me--
  a wager that lets judgment be
  
  to have my wages weighed out fair, 
  I must appear to my Judge there,
  before His seat, His western throne,
  to reap the death that I have sown
  
  hence, death lurks where the sun retreats,
  a veil to smother my conceits,
  a passing, grave, a going-down:
  primordial sea in which to drown
  
  and yet a prayer ascends before,
  to clothe (to cover)--I adore
  and praise in regal robes stained white
  with blood (I shed) before His sight
  
  indeed, the way I travel seems
  caressed by glory (weight) that streams
  along its length--and whence it flies?
  the light of corpus christi: eyes
  
  seven lamps make glow my path,
  and seven fires burn forth the wrath
  of yonder Judge; these burn my mouth
  with all the heat of deserts south
  
  but growing too of golden roots
  are seven white (like burning) fruits;
  these too my mouth approach, but graced
  my tongue is now for joy I taste
  
  dessert is left for meal right,
  to fill my pilgrim's belly; might
  such dainties be my constant fest
  when find I me on journey's test
  
  but this abundance calls to path
  a host (or two) who, filled with wrath, 
  would plunder of me wine and bread,
  and leave me broken, scattered, dead
  
  yet another host steps also forth
  to take me up (too, from the north),
  who feeds me full and turns me west,
  and bids me change, for pilgrim, guest
  
  and as I travel final miles,
  I give my back to smiting trials,
  and turn from what I place (with pain) 
  behind, I shall not entertain
  
  but placed, it stands in pillared strength:
  a world unseen in width and length
  that somehow now to summon me
  appeals: it bears some thing to see
  
  behind me now a trumpet sounds;
  a voice like rushing water founds
  my fear that there, upon a beast,
  my Judge is flying from the East
  
  atop these verses (twelve they count)
  the death I earn springs as a fount;
  so journey ends, as into tomb
  I fall as seed, to make it womb