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Description
No experiences
No experiences
No experiences could have prepared you for this.
Your heart throws itself off of a moving boat
Into the freezing, quaking seas below.
Your brain, your bones, your nervous system follow soon after
One by one slipping into those waters
And all because you need a breath of fresh air.

All because you saw Him standing on the shore.
That man
Limbs scarred
Eyes burning just as brightly
As the day they stood by and watched Him bleed to death.
There He stands in peaceful rebellion.
An inferno in a world of ice.
A funeral pyre to give you life.

Yet no experiences could have warned you
That the water you thought would bring you landward is now dragging you back out to sea
Capsizing your lungs
Surging rapids sliding through veins like snakes along garden grass.
And no experiences could have told you that you would sink
And the darkness that you were sure couldn't and wouldn't follow you
Is now crawling through your corneas
Like moss clinging to mighty boulders
Unable to be seen in the undergrowth.

And as you fall you pray
And you say
How will I ever see the light of day
If and when I drown?
As water kills fire
Final breaths trickle out
Dangling from your lips like rotten fruit
Ready to be plucked away.

But no experiences could have predicted that a fire would spark underwater.
A flame with no oxygen.
An impossible possibility.

No experiences could have seen it coming:
That hand.
His hand, reaching through the churning waves, scooping your silent heart out of the sand
Cradling the embers as it lifts you to the surface
And rests you on the shore.
Your soul crosses through His pyre
Your lungs take in new breath
The foul fog fades.

For no experiences could have taught you that death is just a complicated synonym for life.

Description
No experiences
No experiences
No experiences could have prepared you for this.
Your heart throws itself off of a moving boat
Into the freezing, quaking seas below.
Your brain, your bones, your nervous system follow soon after
One by one slipping into those waters
And all because you need a breath of fresh air.

All because you saw Him standing on the shore.
That man
Limbs scarred
Eyes burning just as brightly
As the day they stood by and watched Him bleed to death.
There He stands in peaceful rebellion.
An inferno in a world of ice.
A funeral pyre to give you life.

Yet no experiences could have warned you
That the water you thought would bring you landward is now dragging you back out to sea
Capsizing your lungs
Surging rapids sliding through veins like snakes along garden grass.
And no experiences could have told you that you would sink
And the darkness that you were sure couldn't and wouldn't follow you
Is now crawling through your corneas
Like moss clinging to mighty boulders
Unable to be seen in the undergrowth.

And as you fall you pray
And you say
How will I ever see the light of day
If and when I drown?
As water kills fire
Final breaths trickle out
Dangling from your lips like rotten fruit
Ready to be plucked away.

But no experiences could have predicted that a fire would spark underwater.
A flame with no oxygen.
An impossible possibility.

No experiences could have seen it coming:
That hand.
His hand, reaching through the churning waves, scooping your silent heart out of the sand
Cradling the embers as it lifts you to the surface
And rests you on the shore.
Your soul crosses through His pyre
Your lungs take in new breath
The foul fog fades.

For no experiences could have taught you that death is just a complicated synonym for life.