'The meaning of life.'
Solitary, tears consumed the silence
the clock watcher's monotony broken,
grains meticulously dripped
single file
slipped thro' God's fingers
faster than he imagined.
With no more answers
the moment arrived,
in full view of an unsuspecting world
he appeared:
full splendour with
a wry smile,
we fell to our knees while
others ran.
His wounds
oozed a fading power yet
sucked dry pleas that rode the east wind,
ripped thro' every meaningless notion
that bore a poison fruit.
For all those who believed
taken.
Gorged upon:
the last supper.
sympathy's symphony.
© 2007 Michaela James.
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