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                                            An Empty Tomb

                                Inside a tomb sculpted in stones
                          Lay a corpse, half wrapped in deep white,
                                In darkness, with body and bones
                             All over nailed and stained with blood;

                                   Such a sight, never any tomb
                                  Had witnessed or ever will eye,
                            Prompted tender tears from the stones
                               Like sad rains dripping from the sky.

                                  Yet, what a fortune for the tomb
                                  Just to host the Lord`s only Son
                                   In the midst of its lonely womb
                                 And grace Him with its open arms!

                                Still greater was the tomb`s fortune
                               To glimpse during the course of night,
                               Appeasing the corpse`s deep wounds,
                                  Lovely angels all dressed in white.

                                Deeper was the tomb`s amazement
                                      To witness one angel rolling
                                    The huge stone at the opening 
                                Of the round-arched tomb of sorrow.

                                    Loftiest was the tomb`s wonder
                                      To eye, at the outset of dawn,
                               The white corpse risen from the tomb
                                 Lighting around trees and the lawn.

                                   Sorrowful was the tomb to view
                               Mary and her friends shedding tears
                                At the rolled stone and empty tomb
                                     And singly shivering with fears.

                                 But waves of rapture swept the tomb
                               When Mary reckoned the Man in white, 
                                     Standing nearby to be His Son,
                                    Much to every human`s delight.

                                     The empty tomb, living symbol
                                    Of life, of hope and human love,
                             Transcends the bounds of time and space
                                   And fans faith in the Lord above.

                                    Centuries of the sands of time
                                Have spanned the scrolls of history;
                                 The tomb, still sacred and sublime,
                                   Keeps on eyeing the acts of man.

                                   When will the divine tomb unveil 
                                     All secrets veiled in its bosom,
                                Spread the love instilled in its stones
                                   And bring battling men to reason!

                                  When will the sacred tomb witness
                                        The fresh arrival of His Son
                                  To span the shine of peace on earth
                                      And set a lasting spring season!
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