I remember the day I let myself sink into the lake of my watery grave.
Six feet deep, and out from my skin, sin seeped.
I closed my eyes and let such a baptism of bliss kiss my wounds and plant a seed.

For lands to dew,
and roses to bloom,
a seed must die,
so that the roots sprung up.
Yes, in my watery grave, I was crucified.

When I touched the surface,
a new air hugged my lungs.
I knew a journey had just begun,
as the doors of my past have been shut.
That is the experience of grace:
dead to the mortal realm and alive in the Spirit.