Jesus speaks to me in poetry sometimes.

“Let me in to a sweet and tender heart
That allows gentle hands to prick and prod
Where great fear and desperation are at start
My hands work best against a strong facade.
For love is not love as reverence stands single
We cannot be in love without doubt and incertitude
For you are yearning and so feeble
And there is my entrance for my somber interlude.
Hold closed the doors to poor inheritance
But love, I came to bring heartsease
For as I leaned toward my overbearing glance
You kept me at bay with my eyes in peace.
If I have ever owned a more ravishing soul
You have stolen me by the whole.”