Do you remember me?
Do you remember what you did?
Does it haunt you at night,
like it haunts me?
I fear that your sins,
your crimes,
haunt me more than you.
Do you feel remorse,
regret?
Or nothing at all?

There was once a carpenter's son;
he died by his stepfather's profession
about an item made of wood

He died by his stepfather's profession
carrying wood upon his back

He died by his stepfather's profession
with wood touching him
He died by his stepfather's profession
by wood with nails in skin...

○

Rain still falls
upon my shoulders,
green leaves slow dance
with crystal droplets
to the enchanting melody of
saturated skies singing,
spider webs wear liquid diamonds,
shimmering chandeliers swaying
like silent wind chimes on the breeze
and puddles act as mirrors
where I see my smile
as I head down a muddy path,
leaving lonely footprints behind,
walking towards the sunny day
*that is you