A scene of Ridicule, Betrayal, Humiliation, Pain, and Sorrow
He was whipped
His flesh was cut into
His body was torn
His blood painted the earth
He carried the cross up to the mountain of Calvary
He was Full of anguish
Blood and sweat in his brow
He was thrown onto two pieces of wood
Dust and splinters entered into his lesions and wounds
Into his scourged back
They tied him up
The Soldiers prepared their hammers
They readied their nails into place
Their eyes were steadied to crucify
And all at once - the first spike entered into his palm
he felt the piece of metal as it crushed the nerves in his wrist
The second came too soon
He felt an excruciating pain throbbing through his arms
A burning ache instantly bursted its way to his head
The third.
His weak and feeble legs were crossed
And the last nail was born into his flesh
Tendons snapped
Muscles tore
At last he called out to God
"My God, My God why have you forsaken me?"
As every bone in his body was being torn apart
He slowly melted
Two pumps and whoosh.. his heart gave its last beats and exploded
The weight of our transgressions were burdensome upon him
And so his spirit left him
And blood and water poured out of his side
They laid him in his grave
One gloom day passed
mourning took place in his followers hearts
While the earth wept
A grand shaking began in the ground
The veil was torn
The stone was rolled away
And behold our savior arose
Resurrection power radiating off of him
And our sins were atoned
The ultimate price was paid
He gave his life to forever hand us eternity
With his death he erased all of our sins
He cleared our mistakes
He made right all of our wrongs
He poured unto us his holy salvation
And God transformed one of the darkest hours in history into
A moment of eternal redemption
This was love.
Love was never an emotion, but an action
A sacrifice
A dying to yourself
Putting everyone's life before your own
Taking off your crown and getting up from a throne
Love was Jesus hanging from a tree, for you and for me
He gave it all
He forever defeated sin
And most importantly He overcame

Ripe, bitter, sour and oh so sweet.
Dangling off of a Californian tree.
Living within peels so stringent and
containing cascading juices so pungent.
He leaves you wanting, aching to know more.
He lures you in with the irresistible sweetest of enchanting
songs and ballads.
But what you didn't know was, that the ending
melody left you in a note that made you feel as though
you were drowning in a sea of rotten,
forgotten, and lost once loved dreams.
You became addicted to his freshness,
to the zest of his scent.
You became seduced, captivated even.
You let yourself become vulnerable
and susceptible to his touch.
You slowly opened up your wounds.
You let your friable bandages flow free.
You even let him lead the grand dance.
You let him twirl and spin you to the point
of reaching a state of trance or reverie.
He took you on romantic evening picnics,
he brought you to the oldest of antique boutiques,
and he even painted you angelic
mosaics in oil.
Ones comparable to those grandiose and imposing
works' of the masters.
At last he casted you under his spell
and he enticed you once again.
He had the charm of a thousand
and he was spontaneous in all his ways.
He never failed to surprise you.
They say he had an oriental descent
and this would explain much.
But when you least expected it,
he touched your wounds.
You felt an unbearable pain,
and a strange surge flow through you.
It burned, to say the least.
You almost felt your incisions
blister under the effect of his acid.
His yellow and aureolin tint
seemed only to be a facade.
An illusion, a charade to the naked eye.
But in that moment you could see through it.
You looked at him with pain-struck eyes,
full of confusion and disappointment.
You couldn't really identify the look in his.
You realized that he really had nothing to do
with his cadmium yellowish golden tint.
You felt as though you were fainting.
You were sinking and all the sweet
memories you two shared, flooded your
sight.
But then he said, "look at your wounds"
and you did as he ordered.
You looked down and shook off the stupor
and came back to.
You looked at your wounds and
became staggered and managed a mere "thank you".
For your wounds were no longer swollen and irritated.
He had healed you.
So when life hands you lemons,
don't make lemonade.
No, instead care for those
misunderstood beings,
and tend to their needs.
Because the lemons in our lives
are all too prevalent and far too
misread.