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Saturday, December 3, 2005


The Keys Of Death
The great tree of death,
Dark and sinister,
Dropped into the hole…
A man’s face,
Stained with blood and pain, topped with a ring of thorns,
Grimaced and contorted…
The people laughed, jeered and spat…
The spikes that held him on the cross,
Ripped the flesh of his wrists…
The man, Jesus, strained and pushed for air…
“If He is truly the Son of God,”
“Let him step off the cross!”
The crowd jeered…
“Forgive them, Father,”
“For they know not, what they do…”
The Son of God slumped,
His head rolled forward…
Jesus, was dead.

One dark figure stood at the cross.,
His skin darker than coal…
Circling the cross,
He spat several times at Jesus…
“Who are you now?” He clucked with an unsettling sound…
But then,
Satan’s eyes widened,
As a light began to shine.
The spikes that pierced Christ’s bones and flesh,
Turned to dust!
He floated off the cross and raised his head.
The Devil screamed, as, slowly, Christ looked his way.
The light shown brightly from this tortured man,
And the devil fled!
Leaving behind, the keys of death!

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