His angular head
Hung in glory
For the things he carried
Were not his own.
The cross he carried
Was his father’s story.
He hung upon the
crossbar of deaths row.
“Mother may I, go on and die?
There is nothing left for me.
Nothing!” He bowed his head—
He died.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
His angular head
Hung in glory
For the things he carried
Were not his own.
The cross he carried
Was his father’s story.
He hung upon the
crossbar of deaths row.
“Mother may I, go on and die?
There is nothing left for me.
Nothing!” He bowed his head—
He died.
