Wandering, guided we stand
Forlorn and afraid, each man,
Alive but dead and he comes
To us, our master.
Elevated to exalted status,
The bringer of Truth, or
Dare? And with tainted
Colours, his arms aflame.
To one, to all, we stand,
Together. Calling to him
With our crimes painted
Before us, in bloody puddles.
A single fated whisper,
And no more is he. Light
Streams from the open door,
Dispersing, Cleansing, Love.
Copyright © - Duncan N. Cunningham - May 1997