Powders
Fine earth-dusts
Beneath a stone upturned
By the clattering
Mob-pourings after centurions
On the mocking-run to Golgotha

They drive a poor shrunk Man heaving a Cross

Bright honor they do to One
Who gave them alms from heaven
Bread from stone
Life

See them all for their total pale shadows-grey eye
Each surly ash etched deep in monotonic dullness

Yet slowly slowly now
Out of the loveliness of death's oncoming shade
Deep deep within Exquisite Quiet
Where Temple bleeds out thorn
And Hands and Feet shed iron studs
The Agony whispers in the sad and delicate air

"Forgive"

See Perfection and Futility
As Twin Agonies inseperable as earth-dusts
Lying beneath an upturned stone
High on the mocking-run

Powders
Blowing time out of mind

Powders
Upon which the mind is nourished

(Repost - For the Easter Passion)