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Man in the Middle

by Terry R A Eissfeldt  
11/29/2007 / Poetry

Before the celestial orb
began its faithful journey
across the virgin sky,
Creator of all matter
between His Throne in Heaven
and the Earthly realm below.
He was suspended
in the middle
where deep calls out to deep
up from Chaos,
Order arose
and aligned itself
with Life.

But Life,
though in the very middle
of the Garden of God,
was not the preferred choice
of the free beings
so like their Creator.
Too easily they were led astray,
convinced the very hand
that formed them
was harsh,

Death became master.
His kingdom invaded
the world created
to be an extension of Heaven
with man as ruler.
But man was now slave.
And Death,
unlike the Father of Lights,
demanded blood
as payment for betrayal.
to quench
an unquenchable thirst.

God stepped in.
He stood between
Death and its prey.
He chose a lamb,
instead of man,
and shed
the first innocent blood.
It wet the sacred ground
staining it for eternity.
Man was covered
in new slain skin.
Death's threat abated
but not relinquished.
He would have his day.
Dust would return to dust.

So from the dawn of time
man has needed
an advocate,
an intercessor,
to raise a voice
in contrast to the Accuser,
who stands before
the throne of God,
night and day,
day and night,

As Father Time marched on,
less divine,
followed where the Spirit led.
They found themselves
in the middle
of fallen clay
and the soaring
Holy Breath.

Men and women,
interceded in word and deed
for their fellowman,
stood in the gap,
between earth and Heaven,
between spirit and body,
defending those not worthy
of the tears they shed;
nor the blood.

Prophets, Priests and Kings
heard the very
heartbeat of Heaven
and tried to convey its unique
to those
who would not hear,
though they
possessed ears.

The endless cycle
of dust to dust
continued until
the innocent blood,
the crimson stain,
overflowed the dust of Earth
and invaded
Heaven's throne room.

Father and Son looked to the Spirit.
He sped to Earth below
and found a fertile womb.
Once more
the Earthly realm
was invaded.

The Son became man.
No more above,
but now below,
joined in mutual flesh.
He brought
the very
Breath of Heaven.

But all were not ready
to be released
from Death's grip.
They did not want
to give up their chains
of control
for bands
of love.

They suspended
the very One
who came to free them,
the Son,
between Heaven and Earth.
On cruel wood
He stretched out
blameless hands.
With supplication
and passion
He called His Father
as witness
before breathing
the last
Breath of Heaven.

Death had his day.
The Son,
encased in clay
was entombed
in the Earth's womb.
But dust was not to be.

With blinding light
and a shout
from all creation
Life won the day.
The Son returned
to his Heavenly home
and brought with Him
the innocent blood.
As witness
to His endless love
it sits beneath the throne
waiting the
Day of Judgment.

Now the Son stands
before His Father,
interceding for the ones
He bought.
And the Spirit,
fully free to roam the Earth,
seeks out and finds those
to whom it has been given
to stand
in the gap,
to be
in the middle.

They are the faithful.
Clumps of clay
so yielded
that they are willing to be
the very voice
and hands
and feet
of Heaven on Earth.
Week by week
in pulpits
they hover and brood
over their flock,
over their community,
over their world.

They breathe
the Breath of Heaven
to bring
With compassion,
knowing the frailty
of their fellowman,
they intercede
and join the Son
in supplication before a
Holy God.

They are men
and women
in the middle
of Earth and Heaven,
Spirit and flesh,
God and the fallen.
Waiting the day
when the last
of innocent
and joins the
under the throne.

Then and only then,
when the final battle is won
and Earth returns
to which and whom
it was created for,
when Death
at last has his day
and is forever burning
in the Lake,
will God and man
meet truly
face to face.

All will be changed
as clay
and the incorruptible
is embraced.
No longer
will there be a need
for a man in the middle.

Terry R A Eissfeldt
copyright 210

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