The Invisible Mount of Olives
The sound of grip dripping
From a blank embankment
Crowds a single finger
Under craggy terrain.
The embrace emits steam
The color of Jasper
The smell of Jasmine
Aimlessly floating for drift.
As the rust settles cliff side
Blame begins...
Judgement unearths the first stone.
A soiled hand and phalanges
Point at choice questioning sin
asking, "Who is without sin?"
Blame ceases to give a voice.
Meaning is pushed toward place
Silence chooses to change face
causing a shift of power
from the finger to the hand
and the Hand enfolds the noise
isolating blame from sin
and sin from free will and blame.
Blame becomes unique judgement
Sin become immediate
Free will chooses to have choice
And meaning eludes reason.
The Hand of God Touched Your Thought
Thought proves knowing right and wrong.
Some judge sin as a free will
because others are blinded
by the noise of choice and end.
Meaning drifts us inside us
Can we be without sin?
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