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.