Don't worry, I am not going insane, just writing on the Old Testament at the same time as listening to Sylvia Plath

What did my imagination do before
I started to live in this Spiritual war?
How was my heart anchored and fixed yesterday
Before with divine rhythm it began to sway?
Whose lofty purpose was I living out with zeal
And was anything about it significantly real?
Whose story did I live in and what did it mean
Before biblical players fleshed out the scene?

How foolish and ridiculous is the narrative of this
And yet blood-stained life is akin now to bliss.
It does not read well and the corners are frayed
And the prince in this story is horribly slayed.
And yet with a kiss awoken, beginning
Conquering confusion and stifling our sinning,
He rises victorious and gathers us round
As a hen does her chicks who were lost and now found.

Do we live in him or does he live inside?
There's a spiral of possession, so who now the bride?
He's enigma domesticated, given a structure
With noun, verb and adverb we carefully butcher.
He will escape all our theories as we fill up our shelves
With the scribbles of scholars which instead reveal selves,
So much of the angst which we spill through our pens
As our critical gaze holds him down under lens
Is a strangely unsettling, infectious disorder
Have mercy Your Highness on each merciless marauder.

How is it that others unfettered, float through
And yet I boast a freedom that is making me new?
That some accept a surface and over it skim
Whilst I plunge below where the light makes it dim?
For nothing is as complex as it was before,
Its now truthful nonsense with a realness that is raw.
It twists everything it touches upside down
On top of this world is a precarious crown.

So today I will hold him down a little longer
And shout at him argument until I feel stronger.
Knowing Masters degrees can not master my Master
I can't claim to know about impending disaster
I won't speak of election or predestination
A striking new Jerusalem and end-time tribulation.
Like you, I know nothing for clean is my slate
So for God, oh, we will simply sit together and wait.