Transubstantiation of the Flesh

I have drunk the sacramental wine, the bread

Unleavened, eaten slowly that I might taste

The essence of the message he had spread.

A love divine through my body raced.

Is He not born again and yet again

In this seemingly inexplicable dream

Of a world where rapture rules and grinding pain

Is worn away as a stone in a rushing stream?

And yet it is no dream that we have come

To drink from the silver chalice, the soul refresh

Our aspiration to make this world His home

By the transubstantiation of the flesh.