A sibling asked, “Why?”
but the world can’t know,--
won’t know--
doesn’t need to know.
For all the burden to be carried
must not be tried
by those who peril along for life.
A girl asked, “Who?”
The beaten path cannot be changed,
Forever maimed by the unforgiving pain.
All That One knows is
That something
occurred.
But He said, “I know.”
Of all the oblivious existence
That surrounded That One,
One knew who had done the bearing
Of that something
That occurred.
No one asked, “What?”
What took place during the dark morn’?
What became of One?
What had He done?
The truth that spilled
Was the opposite of He:
“I don’t know, had a course been run?”
That One sprawled on the floor,
With the bareness left in horror
For the closed to see.
T’was a weight so heavy,
So wary,
So weary.
Everyone saw light
Because all had been blinded
By that daunting,
Aweing
Fright.
All One knows is that what still remains is the untainted,
And unfeigned,
uncertainty.
And if it could be anymore,
The forever knocking,
Roaring
Door
Left a wholly,
Holy
Scar
To be untouched and caused
By That Something that occurred
Which had ridden
To a fear so hidden,
But One’s fault became known as:
The Stumble Upon The Backpack Of Burden.