But If I, With the Finger of God

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.