Nexus in the Sun
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Nexus in the Sun • Posted: Mar 13, 2020 20:25:11Comments WelcomeVote CoolPhotoblogsPurchase a PrintShare

So bright the sun
     my eyes
     do squint.
Can barely see
     what’s out
     ahead of me.
Three crosses
     on a hill?

The path is steep.
     Ground is rough.
Air is hot.
     Wind is still.
Far beyond
     the only town
     for miles around.

You know the story.
     I’m sure you do.
A thinking man,
     a caring man,
     a giving man,
and pair of desperate thieves
     nailed, they were,
     up on those boards
     to shrivel in the sun.

That winding path,
     it goes right by.
Take lesson,
     the crosses say,
You’ll not want
     to take their course.
Be not desperate.
     Be not wise.
Stead heed the words
     our King is said.

And, what was the plight
     of those who did?
Heed the words
     that King did said?
Who took up swords
     to slay the wise
     and all the desperate
     woeful, too?

Did grass begin to grow?
     And rains begin to fall?
Did goats give milk?
     And sheaves yield bread?
Was reason born to
     dance and sing?
And hug the ones
     we love?
And did a wall
     protect us all?

I shield my eyes.
     My head dost ache.
I know true well
     this world is cracked
     and gushing blood.
I cannot help but see
     that King of yore,
     and all Kings hence,
     have made a
     stinking mess.
And, here we are,
     the lot of us,
     and grown weak,
     so very very weak.

What was it that that
     thinking, caring,
     giving man,
     strung up up
     on cross
     did say?
I’m sorry, but it’s lost.
Though, thinking,
     caring, giving
     is still a course
     each one of us
     could take.

Desperate men,
     and women too,
     so in abundance
     across this land,
No King’s words
     or bloodied swords
     have ever
     appeased their
     tearful fearful
     anguished woes.
And yet, there’s chance
     a thinking, caring,
     kind and giving man,
     or woman,
     might still invent
     a cure?

Three empty crosses
     on a hill,
     invariably recall
     that story
     sad but true.
Testament, you see.
This world all cracked
     and bleeding blue
     has yet to meet
     a sorely needed
     host of healing lovers,
     wise and kind
     and true.

Monday, March 12th, 2018
Bullhead City
106 mm 286 mm
1/500 sec
f 5