Behold the Son

Her name doesn’t matter
Her voice, out of key
Her eyes, crimson pinpricks
Afloat in the sea
A heart that endures
A compassion ensures
Her consort remains pure
‘mid the filth and disease

A teardrop is welling
Her star’s time to fall
A moment in hist’ry
To answer the call
A trumpet is sounded
Her charge is surrounded
Her hopes lie confounded
As fate conquers all

The rifle cocked
A single shot
A prophet thwarted
Disciples’ shock
A mission done
A battle won
Yet more are pending
Behold the son

Published in: on January 7, 2009 at 3:53 pm  Leave a Comment  

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