Stained glass, obligated in lead, etched with love
It is only a window yet I kneel before it
Paying my lip service, a homage
Worshipping.
A heavy cross in the hands of a child
Leading a procession
Wanting to run but bound in a hooded robe
"Bless me Father for I have sinned."
Confusion. The rights of the wrongs.
So unholy this crucifixtion, wrapped in selfishness
Made right in selflessness
Still the nails tear into my flesh.
The embodiment of the Trinity
Cloaked in sentiment, welcomed in spirit
I swallow hard
Choking and gagging on this form.
Spilled seed grows a tree
Blooming in winter's frost
Never touching the ground
While wearing the sky.
