what is just
to be born as the breach
the door
between good and evil
in the image
of the father for us to choose
with fear
and the will to ****
to survive
as only the wicked know how
their burden
though the dove returned
endless guilt
learning to be kind to another
but failing
as the relationship with the creator
languishes
except in the heart of a rainbow
every soul
pierced by a crown of thorns
every love
lanced by the point of a spear
every wall
falling to crush those who approach
black sails
filled with naïve dreams of eternity
from Jesus
to the beaches of hells angels

what is just
to read the words of a dream
written by a man
was he crazy or a prophet
he was ready
it was to save us all
and he knew
before diamonds were mounted
he knew
as she looked into his eyes
yesterday
they did not think of prophets
as it was written
their boots sunk deep into the earth
his mother cried
it had been so long between them
he loved her
but he could only dishonor her
he knew
but he lived the only way he knew how
not for her
not for the prophets dream
he was chosen
for a prophet knows of men like him
because he knows men
he did not have to dream about sin
it was dust on his sandals
but no difference for rich or poor

what is just
how can we know except we are here
it was not the spirit
as it moved across still waters
it was not light
as it split the darkness in half
it was the chosen one
as he gave himself up for us to decide
but there are no pictures
only the longing deep inside for truth
from the time of God
to the time of Satan’s last temptation
some hear a voice
but why is it always about death
some witness a dream
but why is it always about obedience
our nature is given
a rose and a thorn love and hate
to be denial
but who would sever a limb?
we did not ask
yet we are judged as he was
three thousand years
still the wicked walk among us
we live with his silence
though the message rings loud
but would you hide
if the rain refracted the light no more?