The greatest note of triumph ever sounded
in a cosmic broken symphony—
"it is finished"—
resounds across the cosmos,
silencing every utterance of penance
still needed to be paid in blood;
a deafening cacophony shuts out
every last blotch of darkness,
cloaked in light by the shape of a cross.
And all at once, your work of striving is silenced.
Your hands shake and streams flow from your eyes,
unable to move, unable to breathe,
every cell within you pulsates with the sound
of terror and of a newfound joy.