Healing On Sabbath

As apes that muddled the streams rather than quenching their thirst Pharisees went to the temple for mischief; not to pray. Like death-stalker scorpions, in stinging, they were well-versed In the man with a drooped hand, the predators found their prey. Compassion, like nectar from the herb, dripped from Jesus. He saw the withered-handed, by psychic worries, stranded Empowered by the heavens, to reform the egregious To him, to stretch his hand, he compassionately commanded The hypocrites, as though the crane that found a fish, arose They brought the Sabbath laws that stood always with them, like guards. They shot allegations at Jesus like brutish arrows. With a sun-lit smile, he looked at them with loving regards Do not clog the flow of the streams of love of the divine. Isn't abundance of love, the divinity's design?