That Friday dawned, as have dozens of others,
Gross gray, bedaubing Elysium's base canvas,
Demanding a background befitting dark deeds,
Remembering the misery of the purest of mothers,
Despairing, glum weeping, guttural her mantras
To the Deity, for His champion of creeds.
Good Friday's infamy, creation history's
Bewildering faux pas, man's bleakness, uncovers
A stark poverty of heart. His mystery's
Epitome, insurrection invoked, vandals
Infuriating the angels, the consistory
Aborting, heaven watching as its Prince bleeds!
Playing, cavorting, pleasure its highest prayer,
Lost, undone, imperiled, foolish man does not care!
Celestials in amazement, crowded heaven's rails
Stunned silent, disbelief adorning their faces.
In furious rage, with one voice, "The mortals,
Let's destroy to the man!" they cried. Though He pales
At thinking what the Son's to endure, He graces
Their outrage with a negative nod, the portals
Of heaven, in silence, open wide, a white dove
His message to creation will carry. The nails
In His hands, scream pain as would ours, only Love
Can endure what He must! It's His trading places,
Satisfying Justice's sentences above
Legal demands, that man's one of the immortals!
Such love is this it takes faith to believe it,
Gifted by the Father, if we will receive it!

--Baron Gooberacht von Hottzendog



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