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The candles are extinguished today and the crucifix covered in black
for the One whos life was once bludgeoned with ignorance and greed
As He readied for heaven, he took each heavy Pontus whack
for sake of a world that could not accept nor believe, His Holy Creed

Some repented while others shouted profanities and ignored His tears
as He carried the Cross towards His final resting place, He slowly wept  
the sky, grueling  dark unbending, did not shed the rain nor smear  
while His laced up sandals  walked the sand without God's intercept
  
"But If I, With The Finger Of God," He once implied before he died  
but this was not to be, for the Son of God belonged to man's transfix  
He walked through throngs and herds as he closed the great divide  
they watched, as clustered  Halos grew around His bloodied Crucifix

But If I, With The Finger Of God could wipe away His pain
be more then just a writer recalling His death with ink and quill
The world would be changed as I know it, and He would Reign  
Yes He is the One who died but also, the One they could not kill.

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