The morning sun rises
then sets.
Time moves…
the hour gets closer.
People continue
with their
regular day–
herding goats
preparing food,
scolding children,
beating laundry
gathering water…
Inside the
city walls
crowds are
bustling…
Yet
someplace
there is
a person,
sitting quiet.
An old man perhaps?
A servant,
questioning in silence,
as they do
this
strange job?
They cautiously
carefully
weave
over
and under
and over
and under
the thorny vines,
as they
bleed.
This crude crown
will scoff
the one who
wears it…
What
are they thinking
while doing
this task?
It is finished.
Where is it placed
to wait
for that
cruel mockery…
I made one.
I
bled.
How strange it looks
sitting on
things…
important?
- Things
I love the Savior. This is such a humble way to remember Him.
I Love Him too and I love you!