You must login to vote
Crosses in their thousands ,
with the lashed , bleeding bodies
of the condemned , nailed to each,
line the Imperial Way
to the hill,
that crowns the City of Gold.
each more richly caparisoned
than the rest,
cavort in gay ,depraved abandon ,
lurching and swaying ,around the crosses -
their gold-flecked tresses flaying
the feet of the condemned.
At the high altar , on the hill
The Anointed One stands.
Elated … rapturous ,
he gazes at his Chosen Ones
thronging the concourse
Waves of thunderous applause
surge towards him-
ripped from a million throats,
all frenetically cheering as one.
Supreme - in his moment of triumph,
he raises his hands to the heavens-
in a flash , the vast crowds below ,
fall hushed and silent.
“Our Father ,” he intones , “Who art in Heaven…
….Thy Will be done.”
……. Before His open sepulchre
The Risen Christ stands,
wreathed in Glory and Majesty.
Yet, wracked by a boundless Sorrow ,
He draws back - whispering ,
ever so tenderly and lovingly,
the words immortal :
“ Noli Me Tangere”
Whirling through the dark immensities,
the little planet ,that a brief instant before,
had been so exquisitely cerulean,
flecked by delicate wisps of white –
flares …brighter than a thousand suns.
I ask you-
Was War -wondrous,
was Carnage -cathartic