Saturday’s Mourning In Glory: Returning To Life

Entombed in the thickest of forests He lay, donning a dark shroud of cool deadened leaves. Limbs that once held the glorious weight of the world were now, at the last, but scattered timbers on sacred grounds. Branches that once shouldered the burden of the blame had broken from the main, and still the vines held fast! Everything for which He stood – a scheme inside a dream; His crowning achievement – a sacrificial theme; all was laid to rest beside the petrifying flesh of His ancestors.

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A Good Friday: The Uprising

Let us go, dear soul, for a stroll!

You help me sing my song.

Two loves the sound that makes a whole

when daybreak hums along.

*

We’re off to greet the morning sun,

salute a spectral sky.

Like dew, we’ll glisten just for fun

before our last goodbye.

*

Ascending now, slow and steady,

my eyes relay the scene.

Pick up the pace and get ready,

we know what this will mean.

*

Goosebumps and grins ~ the day begins,

a laugh under my breath.

Run past mistakes and mortal sins,

then walk your soul to death.

Uncle Tree

© Keith Alan Watson

When leaving sounds rewarding, Death is smitten once more.