The Long Cry

Long ago an outspoken prophet had publicly died;

Who was nailed to a cross with crippled arms spread wide; 

And many grieved for him in a mourning haze;

The mourning time turned into long misty days;

Turned into weeks and months and into multiple years;

A universal public holiday was created for the flowing of tears;

The adoration came and burst like a blood blister;

His tortured image was that of a shape shifter;

‘Sorrow has become too glib’, an observer derided; 

Who was mocked by a mob and kicked back-sided.

 

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