TEN, TWENTY LEAPING FEET
Some Jesus died at Calvary, those little
churchbooks say - sky darkened, 3pm,
thunder and lightning pealed. Pretty dramatic
stuff for the pre-theater era. 'Surely,' they said,
'this man was the Son of God.' A few hours later
they took him down, removed that broken body
from Mankind's cross of wood. Then, a few days
even later on, the tomb reopened, the rock unfurled,
this guy appeared again, and just went off. 'Surely',
they said, 'this man was the Son of God.'
-
It wasn't like we knew the ending before this
narrative unfolded - I mean, come on - three
wise men, a star, some newborn, little, cradled brat
calling a Bethlehem manger home - cows and lambs
and barn-life brewing. Who wrote this knew all that,
but we for sure were long-time kept in darkness.
-
Then it says, the light appeared, the new light came
forth. 'I am the Light of the World', for Christ's sake
what's with that? Oops, can't say that; self-referential
matter never works, gott'a leave Him out. Now, two
thousand five hundred forty seven days and fourteen
hours later, I'm still sitting here weaving a yarn and
writing these words. best little story I ever heard?
Surely, this man was the Son of God?
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