Poetry

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Back twenty centuries
A man dying on a tree
But what is that to me?
- I wasn’t there to see

As he hung there dying
His soul was loudly crying
But I am not really buying
- the bible might be lying

“It’s finished” said he at last
Then expelled his final blast
I shake my head and laugh
- my lot was already casted

He rose on the third day
Making for me a new way
My heart starts to sway
- I feel anger falling away

Throughout the centuries
His voice calls out a plea
What is that to me?
- It is everything you see

In heaven the angels are singing
My old life and ways I'm flinging
Around me saints are ringing
- As to Him my heart I am bringing

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