The Bread

This is a question of
Degree when I must work
Faithfully to myself
Ensure that all he gave me
Rises like the dough -
I must be my own
Yeast and that
Experience I had: the seed
Planted in my hand so I
Can rise and be. The
Text is plain and I
Read it yesterday as it
Explained all my
Life to me and thus
Will I live, secure
In the knowledge of
What I have been
Gifted, and work to make
My own grace rise
In my own bread
And greet the world -
Until the pattern that he set,
The final form he gave,
I match in every way
And fulfil the potential
Of the outline that
He drew, the parameters
Into which I must now breathe
And be his body in the
World, the risen bread he
Gave.