Royal blood runs down over his face and beard,
Flowing from his head to the collar of mocking scarlet robe;
This coronation pressed with crown of nature’s ancient curse
Holding a staff of comfort, the Shepherd King stands,
ushering unity against the cries of enveiled truth;
Exalted in humility. Beaten. Led away to death.
The weight of splintering wood too great to bear alone,
The force of cruel metal against flesh too great to resist,
The call, the beauty still to come; too great to ignore.
Brighter by surrounding of violence, abuse and horror;
The spotless lamb, the overcoming hope, our king.
The mocking calls louder to save; unknowingly speak life.
Captivating darkness runs down from heaven
While hope, agony and shame congeal to call into night.
Breath of life can barely breathe. Until … final breath.
The veil of forever-separation is torn to nothing.
Rock and earth are torn as death refuses to remain
And revelation runs down to heart and soul and voice.