For in the image of God made he man—Genesis 9:6
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust—Psalms 91:4
Naked shall he return to go as he came—Ecclesiastes 5:15
The gift of God is eternal life—Romans 6:23

The Gentile Poet, before Christ, sang of arms and a man.
A verse or so later, you became a figure in his story and plan.
Body image of God, the word made flesh, as prophetic speech from your throat.
Eternal Man, and without Eden’s fig leaf as a phallic coat.

Michelangelo, 1506, said, “You are Man, made in the image of God as he made him.”
Art’s essence resurrected, you were exhumed from the earth, not history’s whim.
No, destiny, 1820, your shape of time focuses Blake’s prime-object creation.
The Eternal Body of Man is The Imagination.
Symbolic father, transfigured form, Art can never exist without Naked Beauty displayed.
In 1988, Roy slap-dashed you, following Mickey in a Disney world made.

End of history? Okay, myth’s mystery of life. There I’ll I find your naked embrace.
Father, I felt so alone in time—running a rat’s inhuman race.
You held me trembling and sobbing—gasping for my last breath of air.
Cradling my head on your shoulder, your hand stroked my hair.
Your beard brushed my cheek—your whispered breath fell on my ear and brow:
“There, there…it’s all right, I AM here now.”
Like I AM THAT I AM, as to Moses God’s voice did say.
So I AM with you in time here and now, forever and a day.