Where the Wild King Wars

The night Pax donned his war suit and made justice for mankind

as a brother

His father called him “Wild King” and Pax said,

“I’ll drink the cup.” So he was sent to earth and fasted forty days.

That very night in Pax’s realm as an infant he grew

and grew

and grew until water turned to wine

and he was known by the world all around

and he never stumbled.

He spoke from a boat , gave fish.

Pax prayed while some sailed off.

He healed night and day

was lowly and meek

For most of thirty three years

did the Wild King war.

And when he came to the place

that the King was come for,

our wrong He perfectly bore as they lashed him and terribly beat him

and told their terrible lies and bestowed their misbegotten laws.

‘Til Pax said, “It is finished” and hanged there while blood and water dripped, for pardon of our most sinful cries.

Not stopping, the Father rejected and crushed him, the most perfect Wild King of all.

And he died, King of all wild kings.

“And now” cried Hex “let the wild rumpus start”.

“Now, stop!” Pax said “for I am alive, I’m no longer dead.

Take me, who was dead, as your supper.

And Pax, the King of all us wild things,

did welcome us and wanted us to all be with the Father

who loved us best of all.

Then He took His seat as King of where the Wild King wars.

Now when He is found, whether far away or across the street where wild things lurk still, the Word is good to eat.

Still the wild things cry.

“Oh please just go, we have our things, we love them so”

and Pax says, “no”.

“Still mild I bear your terrible woes and cash them in for righteous clothes.”

“I take your terrible tries and expose your misbegotten laws.”

And Pax from His realms of glory bids us come.

To return from what we have here, though our flesh is weak

and our wits are frayed, into the light of our heavenly home.

Where we find our supper and it is still Him.