My first son,
the one I made of dirt,
from dust of ground.
Though last, yet best of them.
To him,
I gifted form.
Into him,
I breathed, for function.
He lived,
alone not lonely,
in time, in space
I gifted.
My son,
the man - Adam,
in the space I gave
to tend not till.
From my son,
I took her.
To my son,
I brought her.
My son,
one loin that birthed
a nation of men,
after his kind, not mine.
Another son,
a likeness of me
in her; the Word in
flesh among men.
My son,
His royal robe torn;
His royal body scorned;
on His royal head, thorn worn.
For you,
and yours,
My son,
on a cross they hanged.
Lift up to look;
open up to believe;
part open to confess;
then you can be Mine.
Genesis 2⁷, Genesis 2¹⁸, Genesis 2²¹-²², Genesis 5³, Acts 17²⁶, Matthew 27³⁵, Romans 10¹⁰
Awesome 😎
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