Good Friday

from 2004-04-06:

Standing there,
in oblivion,
I gazed up at Your melancholy eyes.
You looked down upon me,
As You always did,
Flinching in pain as You struggled to see my face.


Your face was covered with blood,
Tormented blood:

blood from the cuts of Agony,
blood from the cuts of Betrayal,
blood from the cuts of Friendship,

...blood from the cuts of the Heart.

And yet, You still looked down upon me,
Guiding me with your hawk-like stare.

How I looked at Your hands now--
Hands of Love--
Now covered with sanguine rivers
Which I have caused, and swam upon.

I looked at Your feet,
Covered with the dirt,
which I have caused,
But didn't regret one moment of it...
The dirt I walked upon.

And yet,
a huge pain emerged from just the sight of You,
The pitiful sight of You,
As I spat at Your feet,
Grimaced at Your face,
And cursed Your name
Many, many times...

but before the Last Hour,
When the clock struck 3...
When I was freed,
but You were locked away...
You looked up at the sky,
and You gave Your spirit to the Father.

...but I did not cry.
Instead, I looked down upon the dirt,
And up at the cross where You laid--
The cross I had built
for You to die on,
carrying all my sins...
My many, many regretful sins.

At times, I would hurt You
Without the least consideration.

I built Your cross,
I nailed Your hands and Your feet,
I was Your pain,
and You were my Sorrow...

Yet, You still forgave me...
And You still love me...
The warmth of my sorrowful heart.