The Ballad Of The Soldier Who Took Christ From The Cross.

I Am Doom.
For Seventy Years I Carried Him To His Tomb.
I Had Not Will, Not Right, Nor Passage
When His Grace Fell Upon Me I Withered To Dust.
When His Mercy Fell Upon Me The Earth Lost It's Shape.
When His Wisdom Fell Upon Me
I Thought I Saw The Fires Of Hell Burning In His Heart.

When His Grace Fell Upon Me
I Felt Steady, Not Brave

When His Mercy Fell Upon Me He Lit The Flames To Guide My Way.

Then He Left After Three Days.
And Tho I Fear I Gave Definition To Horror In That Long And Lonely Maze.
His Beacon Burned The Brightest At The Center Of The Cave.
Where I Saw The Devil For All His Might Sitting Atop A Hairpin Cradling His Eyes.
Because, Without Darkness, He Was Blind
I'm Sorry To Drag You All Down Here With Me.
But This Is Where The True Miracle Occures.
Darkness, No Longer Perceiving Self, Left Lucifer.
I Saw That With Darkness A Kind Of Purity Left Too.
May That Purity Be Rediscovered.
In Co-Creation
In Kindness.
In You.