streams of a Savior's blood on the temple floors
cracks of a whip echo off the marble
fresh splinters wedge themselves in the cracks
in the skin
in the soul
the screams and tears go mute for a moment
His moment
to look up from afar
and into these black, clouded eyes
this black, clouded heart
the same weight on His back the same weight in His gaze
the same pain in his crown the same pain in the irises
that bore into blackness and flood it with
glorious light
glorious light
and effortless omniscience of all the terror
of the hell that has entered into the holy place
and stained it with despair
except for the eyes that contain visions of eternal hope
and they are staring at me