Representative of HumanityA Poem by Laz K.Gaunt figure,
gentle savior of man, We huddle in the
trenches of your Furrowed brow
where you hold us Like a thought
you can’t let go of. “Ecce homo,” you seem
to say With your face
devoid of deceit, With your eyes
that see what was, What is, and that
which is yet to come. Your lips that
clothed the Logos in human Sounds praise not
the kind, nor do they Condemn the
violent, but preach silence. Crimson flames of
passion never Tinged your cheeks
so lean and pale, Nor did your wiry
hands ever had Reason to cover them
in shame. You’re holding
heaven and hell apart, So we may grow like
trees, our roots Seeking the depths
of deathly darkness, Our limbs reaching
for the light that pours From the windows
of your Father’s house On high, past the
false glimmer of illusion, Fantasy, past all
of crucified human agony. © 2022 Laz K.Author's Note
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