Friday 3 April 2015

Good Friday

My cross is too heavy to wear
I looked with envy at others
whose crosses seems lighter than mine
I beheld the cross
I impulsively wanted to wear
I forot about the thorns
that started to piers my skin
listening to the sound of my own footsteps
the weakness to fall for the selfishness
grueling and bitter with strife
of the confusing swirl
Wondering where my journey would end
Walking this path I feel all alone
Weak and weary I find no strenght to
standing falling forward clinching sand torn,
battered and bruised I look again
I endure the anguish as rope binds hands and feet
a spike set on my skin
the cross I'm nailed with
horrid pain, would that jerk shake my soul
my own cross I wear



Author: unknown

No comments:

Post a Comment