Nephi had done it.
Many prophets did it
Defied the culture
To save a life.
Now we plant the pot.
It is a risk.
The risk we bare.
He who plants, 24 years.
We who grow, our home, and freedom.
We risk it all.
For the one we luv
Now to bare fruit.
The cure it came.
To share another day.
With the one we luv.
The blanket,
it was spread forth,
on the roof top.
All the unclean food.
"Take eat this is my body"
Three times the command was repeated.
Then the meal was removed.
Three times he had denied Christ, before.
He had been ever faithfull,
Ever since.
But this seamed a bridge, too far.
He pondered thus.
Can anything be impure,
What God has made pure.
When the men came,
from Cornelius,
he journied, thus.
Have I denied,
the pure,
unpure.
The pot was planted,
the pure,
unpure.
The prisoner, in his jail cell.
The unloved.
The unwashed.
To have not left,
The cave.
To leave behind the burden,
the expectation of his culture.
To be with, and strengthen,
the impure.
Those with heavy burdens.
This was his task,
and desire.
