Pantokrator

Would that we listened to his mercy, to his gentle, soft voice as he begged to heal our wounds. Would that we looked twice at his loving gaze, at the selfless passion that saw a broken truth he wished to heal. Would that we lived as he taught us, putting our eternal souls - our greatest treasures - above drunken bursts of pleasure in a dying world. But now he has come. Not as a babe, but as Pantokrator. The burning Word - white-hot and searing away the shadows of our fallen Earth. And while those who walked in Wisdom cry with relief and joy as they flock to his invincible banner, We who dismissed him cry with fear as we stumble away from his blinding radiance, for we know that looking upon it would destroy us. Written after confession 8 February 2025