His feet knew well the dust
But nothing could be delivered
The people weren't ready
They didn't know to ask for it
Two young women watched
While he filled with silent rage
It was time to be a human being
He knew what he would do
He was ready to throw it all away
He wasn't a prophet, just a son
And the graven coins of Babylon
Will never fill the pockets of his homespun
He did not know why he was sent
Though their hearts cried out at night
The sun carved the valley with sin
And in the temple he was unwelcome
The teacher became a pupil
The heart became a sword
The love became a judge
And the God became a man
He was ready for the darkness
He wasn't a prophet, just a son
And the graven coins of Babylon
Will never fill the pockets of his homespun
Comments
Mark Lecuona (author) from Austin, Texas on December 22, 2017:
Thank you Robin... I think I might have been hoping my angry times were rooted in the right levels of justification. Something made me think that even the great forgiver snapped in this place.
Robin Carretti from Hightstown on December 22, 2017:
Wow I simply love this work has a mystical touch of quality and full of richness through your spiritual words
