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talking to myself

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Your Son, Father, you let die



Your Son, Father, you let die

O Lord of the Universe, I bow to you,

you are love this I believe, yet so much pain,

how and why is there no answer?

Jesus sweated blood,

he prayed in faith to you,

“O Father my Father let this pass

yet your will be done”

Your son, Father, you let die,

he bled out nailed to the wood,

naked, in shame, no dignity at all.

He cried out with all of mankind

“My God my God, why have you forsaken me”,

yet he did not despair, hanging between two thieves.

I see no answer to my own inquiry,

yet to look upon your beloved son gives me hope, for evil won

when your son died,

his followers fleeing in fear,

after one betrayed and another denied,

so it is in this world where evil seems to win, for your son’s torn,

tortured, bloodless body was left in a cold tomb,

reduced to a mere slab of meat.


He rose from the dead, who would have thought, how strange you are

O Lord, you weep with us, bled, lose out over evil, yet your life swallows death.

What you are about I have no clue,

yet I will continue to seek,

pray, and hopefully one day,

to have a heart such as yours.

Such is heaven, to be fully human,

as your beloved was when he forgave all,

after all the betrayal, denial, torture and mockery;

one day Lord hopefully we will all understand.

Until then, I will wait no matter how dark it gets, for it has begun,

the leaven of Jesus’ Risen Life.


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