He was High Prince, Beautiful, Golden, Bright, He Shone.
She a lowly beggar, filthy, black, alone.
Surrounded by His subjects, His father favorite Son,
Opulence and plenty, all He'd ever known.
Hunger, thirst, and longing filled her cup. Forgotten and forlorn,
Her raiment ragged, tattered, castoff, second hand, and torn.
Spotting him, her hunger sharpened, she gasped,
And clutched more closely, the beggars bowl she grasped.

She pushed her way weakly through, stumbling, falling, at His Feet.
Collapsing with her effort to taste His Treasured Sweet.
Too exhausted now, even to spare a tear.
She reached out one hand toward Him, surrendering her fear.
Many clamored to be near Him, attesting, contesting their right.
Something in her desperate manner, arrested His flight,
Touching Him with Mercy, He took notice of her plight.
As she lay before him wretched, an unkempt, awful sight.

Compassion awakening Him, her helplessness compelled.
He knelt and took one dirty hand of hers, into His Own, and held
Closely, He bent lower, questioning with His eye.
Looking deeply into hers as she opened them, and heard her faintly sigh.
She asked nothing of Him, no longer capable of speech.
Yet, somehow her inner longing had the ability to reach
Him clearly, to His Core, with her unspoken plea.
Tenderly He lifted her, and gently held her to His knee.

He softly spoke, "Dearest, request what ever I may give".
She whispered brokenly, "i only want to live.
To be Your beggar, please forgive my way,
Unworthy, i beg only to get sight of You, each and every day.
i have no strength to call my own, am nothing, and cannot pay,
Cannot but continue begging, hoping, just to be Your slave, someday."
With ONE Single Grand Motion, her wish granted, He washed her clean.
And in so giving life, once more,  became forever her King.

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