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?