Tears and blood shot forth from the crucified heart,
Not dead yet, but alive, fully alert
He hadn't descended from the heaven straight
But had sprung up from the common lot
In the natural course, all duly set
Nevertheless, the agony was very real, burnt into.
What was left of life in him throbbed violent
For release from the grip of all-embracing dust
All his raging about extinction:
Would it placate the powers that be?
The Son of Man pleads: ‘O Lord, I am more of a sufferer,
Than a sinner, don't be hard in your pronouncement'
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