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For the King Who Has Everything...


What do you give the king who has everything?  Words of honor? Mentions of prestige?  Promises of glory before his throne?   Courageous deeds or royal service?  How about tears?  Tears that sprinkle his feet as he sits before you.  Tears that you wipe away with your hair and your sleeves.  Tears that you press against his toes with your kisses.  Tears that fall so freely because you know...  You know that your invitation into his presence was not based on merit, entitlement or irresistible beauty.  He knows your name because he loves you.  So you cry.

And when you have wiped the last tear away, what then?  Do you break out the expensive wine?  Do you usher him to your seat of honor at your dinner table?  Prepare his favorite meal?  Well, you could.  But perhaps you prepare him for his burial.  Grab your jar of perfume and pour it all over his feet.  You let go of all of your self awareness.  Free yourself of your dignity and pride.  Surrender your thoughts and throw your righteousness in the trash.  Coat his bunions and corns with your finest fragrance, because he's about to be molested, defiled, and pierced for your violations. Because the king first loved you and you don't care who knows it.





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