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He took the scorn that should have been mine.
The crown of thorns which pierced His brow.
Should have been mine to owe.

The beating which marred Him
beyond human recognition.
Should have been my sentence for sin.

He took the nails that should have been mine.
He carried the Cross which I should have borne.
It should have been I
who was...
mocked
scorned
whipped
stripped
wounded
abandoned.
Left.
To die.

But He chose to take my sentence.
My suffering.
My sin.
My shame.
So I could live.
In eternity with Him.
Oh, how great a Love is this!
That He would suffer such great pain.
For such an unworthy sinner as I.

I bow my knee and worship Him.
With tears of gratitude.
For my redemption.
He carried the Cross I should have borne.
No greater Love has ever been shown.

I bow my knee.
And worship Him.
For He took the sentence
that should have been mine.
And made it His own.
No greater Love.
Was ever.
Shown.
 Apr 2017 Alice
Traveler
There was a line
Of word design
I had in mind
To write

When open wide
My four o'clock eyes
In the slumbering side
Of night

In the clear of dawn
The words of songs
Quickly pass on
To rain

Where do epiphanies go
When energy flows
Off on down
Dreamy drains
...

Deleted from the mind
Traveler Tim
Words are now
as if
I never wrote

gather as an aching
lump in my throat.

They don't seek paper
only a river
to pour and mingle
in refrains of a dumb sadness
flow away
sunburned and tidewashed
to where the river is widest
deepest with sighs
of life not enough
in once only
and when just begun
ending broken on the shore.
One more sunset;
what does it matter?
There n' gone,
unborn reborn.
Over and over.
Without a lick of sense,
or the luck of a four leaf clover.
who does not like the feeling
that we are all protected
by our guardian angels

however

as the ancient Greeks
    and after them
Benjamin Franklin & others
maintained

God helps those
who help themselves
 Apr 2017 Alice
Traveler
It's

Not

That

Far

Beyond

Human

Comprehension

.............­....
Traveler Tim

I have no heartbeat,no eyes or brain.
All metabolic activity had ceased long ago.
So how am I writing this?
Simple:I'm a work of fiction,
a lie in lines if you will.
So, such a feat is easy for me.
 Apr 2017 Alice
Sally A Bayan
Come, dance with me...
.....hold my back
lead my arms...my hand
push my fingers
they'll obey
release your power, and
fuel my senses,
......got no room for false pretenses...

I'll let my creative ink flow
inch by inch, i'll move your hands, to draw,
together,  a field of dreams, we shall initiate
while we travel, our efforts will collaborate...
let's dance, fill our sphere with gems of thoughts
**** my pen.....its fire, my fingers will stoke
i'll guide your brush strokes
in painting bright colors on our walks...

lead my hands
as i lead yours...
This giving and taking,
this push and pull stuff,
let's make great art out of it <3
......

Sally

Copyright February  2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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