Holiest of holies, knowingly
coming down on a day when there would be no place and
subjecting himself to birth.
Lord of lords choosing
day after day, time after time to let an all-knowing mind not know anything and to learn, to struggle, to try.
King of kings
knowingly
kneeling and praying and sweating blood and being taken away by people he’d created and
being bound to a tree that he knew the cellular structure of and
God
creator and Lord and father and warrior and lover
knowingly dies
and three days go by
and then, the tomb, exploding wide and the son of man is lifted high and glory be to God it might and peace to men who have his favour,
Saviour
Chosen one choosing for us, beginning in dark and seemingly ending there but
as known before time
He rose.
Cool poem!
Sent from my iPhone
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