Nicodemus

N I C O D E M U S

Deserted.
Abandoned.
Denied.
Betrayed.
Broken.
Alone.
Last Friday is gone now.
A whisper in a dream.
The cheering throng,
Their songs long gone.
The palm fronds
Discarded.
Trampled.
Bloodied.
Tattered.
Much like His clothes.

Now in the dark of noon,
Everyone hastens away
To keep the law,
While the lawgiver,
lifeless He there hung.
Low in death.
Death by law.
Dead by law.
Despised,
Even by flies.
Ugly.
Filthy.
Reeking.
There is no other smell like that.
You smell it in war,
and you smell it in murder.
That stench of life blood!
Only when wasted!!

‘Twas then…
In that lonely dark hour.
One who once stole in,
Silent in the shade of night.
Now boldly stands up,
To take Him down.
‘Fraid no more.
Won over by love.
Overcome with love.
Wraps Him with the finest linen,
Recalling how He gifted him,
The first ever to unwrap
the finest love song
ever given to man:

“For God so loved the world,
That He Gave
His Only
Begotten Son.
That whosoever
Believes in Him
Should not perish but
Have
Eternal
Life!”