Prodigal Poem by Arthor Journer

Been in the mire in the trough with the pigs
Soul spent in reckless abandon now bankrupt
Disguised by makeup and wild colored wigs
My heart is open but empty remains my cup
This path is hard back from the ruins
Through bushes and vines that dig into my skin
Brain on fire and my feet swollen
Mind and heart sick from the paths of sin
You call to me with open arms
A purple robe outstretched in your hands
You promise to shield me from the harms
Of leaving myself the way I now am
You promise to give me a ring
Though the whip should be my plight
You speak of love and gifts you bring
Though my folly should be kept far from sight
The music plays and the feast has begun
Long lost friends start to appear
All this and you still call me son
Though my name should not enter your ear
You speak of forgiveness and being restored
You mention how much you missed me
My name and life should be abhorred
Yet you tightly hugged and kissed me
Who could measure a love so great?
That would hold me when I am at my worse
Who can describe or even anticipate
That you have destined me to have a great course
Your love called to me when I was far from you
Your eyes where still on my life
Though your will and way I did not do
Your divine protection and care was rife
Love supreme shines on my path
Victim of your love and care
Instead of a victim of your wrath
I have been forgiven and prepared