The Trip
A trembling earth,
A backward trip in time.
Can this be as it seems?
Long gone, those who assailed,
who cried give us Barabbas.
Perhaps a dream?
Where are those who mourned?
I ponder now, my wit being at loss,
As I behold three rusty nails,
Blood stained, on an empty cross.
Why was I chosen
That this scene I should see?
In truth I cannot say.
Perhaps but a reminder,
Though God loved me then,
I'm loved as much today.
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