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The Promise Heaven Sends

A dodecahedron of disciples cross legs
sliding robes up to where
bare legs appear, very close, to where the
foot crosses under the table, slightly above
the cap of knee.

…and the cinctures dangle beside yet unbroken seats

Steadying the faith, surprise grows to a stealthy stall
of distrust and eleven lips in gaping stare, wonder which
of the twelve conducted betrayal’s wand, unto their friend,
whose only crime was offering assistance to those who no
one else seemed to care

The loss of equilibrium jumps about, leaping from the apex
to the nadir, from the elating aura endearing from the sky to
the paramount of despair, drowning salvation in a land of
doubtful savages, lining unpaved roads, for a chance to see the
barbarian free, while the dove becomes the scapegoat for man’s
sick obsession with a blood-thirst, promoted by politicians
only concerned with how ploys can stir their futures safe, allowing
greed to replace what love’s been in the process of overtaking,
and therefore, it’s all, every bit and more

left to linger amongst the lion’s den to the barren shore, where
fish flop about in frenzied gasps of suffocating decree-

amongst the scuffed dust aerating the palaces of the brutal side, of a society,
where snakes and fleas covet the skin of those lonely souls he chose to abet
their claims to enter the gates above

yet now, the compass has been dampened through the brisk of rain
spilling its yet blessed
fluidity, in waves and tides,
supplanting the eucharistic possibility
with a severance that cuts free each precious corded gnarl, a knot
that binds the sinners soul with his own, forgiving each for
their forbearances and mortal flaws, allotting these same men
with a taste of salvation, delivered to them in well-doused and overfilling cups, promising
a future when none can think that such outcomes could ever possibly exist

and yet they create the plague
by choosing the cruel representation-
simply because he’s one of their own, he’s one
of those whom they’ve always known, who’s lived
in times of tumults alongside their positions on the streets
obsessing after that which provides the easiest route out
of poverty, away from the agonizing questions posed when
stomachs growl when lacking feed.

Rapt up in the tremor’s cloak
the connectivity of the flock has faded
into denials and disillusionment, as each
of his sheep abandon him, who, at such a moment
must have felt the disappointment inherit to the
lower caste of mortal men

and still, he must have felt the betrayal deeply.
Their lack of trust became overtly clarified
as, in apparent unison, their voices initialized
the chanting songs, of what would amount… to the
inevitability of deicide,

which, in a few short spans of time
the betrayed would in fact bleed out then die
yet rise he would, leaving the stone premises
with boulder ne’er budged

word quickly enveloped the talking points, where despite
the well-educated retribution-tinged hypotheses,
he kept closed his grasp, sheltering both the expired and
ne’er ceding reciprocalities, of love amassed,

He remained steadfast, when it would’ve been easily understood
to see an alternative of character, yet he did not waver in his
demeanor, he did not allow spite or vengeful thought to sink it’s claws
into his resurrected flesh, instead he honored each his every promise made,
keeping true the offers made, to those who imbibed deeply, hence overflowing
illustrations of what faith can do to one when fully embraced, but also to those
followers who became constituents of his traitorous flock, those that fled
from his side, those who denied his acquaintance, choosing mortal fears,
over the devotion abloom within, and those, in this, his most trying time of need

In death comes salvation
In resurrection appears affirmation
and thus,
a cross is hung upon each
man’s back, to know
exactly what pain it brings, yet
it teaches alike the rich and poor,
that even bearing so much angst,
he’ll never give you more than you can
take, and even when you fail
his promise will stick with you,
through the gates and into the hall,
simply because you believed, and through
your faith, you healed the wounds your
ancestors helped breed foul.

He loves all
even the ill,
even the sick of mind.

He passionately loves us all,
the sinners and the saints, the wicked
and the skeptics too

Our well-being comprises each his dreams
from the frayed and ragged edges of the
evil man, in the same fashion as to where
his arms remain forever extended to the
purest, most moral and devout of men.

This, this is the promise Heaven sends…


About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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