The consciousness of self
Of one's self makes all other
Celebrity pale-this individual
Self means to each one of us
More than the sum all worldly
History combined:  My pain,
Delight and my despair they
Are what I know most vividly
Even in sympathy and empathy
It is myself that I feel all else is
Abstract , a kind of heresy of
Mutually agreed upon gossip
As every infant know I am the
Star and I Live Forever.  This is
Universal wisdom-Have we let
Go of this Truth given another
Story for"politeness" sake. Not
Our own.  There is too much to the
Contrary-the evidence all says I am
I grant that it says the same thing
To you.  The point is that the ikonic
Figure Christ must be representative
Of thatI am reality and that is where
His Truth exists-that is that our lives
Equate to His.  As in life so in death.
Yet it is a metaphor-the identification
Is not exact but if it means anything
You can surely see yourself in the glass
And Know this story is about you-you
Who cannot die, for if you rise again
Then surely this world is a dream and
Is that not what you always thought
But in this dream you were crucified
Did not your disciples laugh and say
We told you so a lie you were the last
To know it is enough to make you cry
Like a baby and so you shut them up.
Yes we are all one one with the Father
But Forget me not I am His only son.
And so  He left as we all must to dream
Again a better dream as we soon shall
In that place where death is no more
Nor ever was-In My Father's House
There are many mansions.  Believe...