Black (i)

In agony so vile and harrowing
The Lamb of God in raising up his head
Beheld a cloud smaller than human hand
A distant sign of terrors yet to come.
A spot of grey slowly yet surely drifts
Yet closer to the land parched by the sun’s
Strong, searing, scorching, penetrating rays,
The ground, like dust and ashes shaken up
By those who pass him by, as if in scorn
Or fleeting interest or mere intrigue
In such a hapless, bloody spectacle
Stripped of all regal, kingly dignity.
In gasping agony the Lamb of God
Straining each sinew slowly to behold
Seven times the cloud that slowly drifted near
As in the days on Carmel when in faith
Elijah, to bring glory to Yahweh
Invoked Yahweh to burn with heavenly fire
The offering, there meant for Baal in which
That false god might be glorified o’er all
Yet which was put to flight along with all
The false prophets who sought hard to invoke
A nothingness before their blinkered eyes
Were now resigned to false hope and belief
And their own lives a bloody sacrifice
To purge the falsehood and deceitfulness
And render Satan’s power to nothingness.
That black and sheer monstrosity that once
Seemed distant and innocuous now filled
The firmament, extinguishing the sun
As if to say that there is no escape
From terrors new and as yet not beheld.
The Lamb of God now bowed his head as if
To be rid of the dark foreboding sight
And bring a calm to his unending night.
His thoughts now turned to counsel once given
To those whose minds were fearful and distraught
‘Let not your hearts be troubled little flock,
And neither let them be beset by fear.
But trust in God and also trust in me’.
Is now the Lamb of God, by His own words
Tempted to fear, mistrust and self-loathing?
His mind, once clear, now filled with dread consumed
With doubt and darkness, horror and despair
Like the blackness that hovered overhead
And now which beats down thunder like the fire
That burnt the Canaanite offering to Baal
And roared its deafening, vibrating voice.
And yet the blackness hovering above
Cannot compare to blackness of the mind
To which the Lamb of God is subject to.

Imprisoned on the cross, the tree of shame.
The harsh scaffold of torture physical
And mental, driven through by cruel nails,
And scars from beatings by the lash which tear
His flesh against the roughness of the wood.
Further and further down the tortured mind
Plunged down a hollow tunnel into which
No living thing of goodness, truth and grace
Could help, relieve or nullify his state.
Down, further down he falls into the void
And blacker still where eyes now powerless
To see, perceive or even comprehend
What yet awaits the Holy Victim who
Now weakened, crushed and torn apart in all
The agonies which for us were undertook
By Him, in acquiescence to Yahweh
Before the human fall from grace was planned
By that vile serpent, Satan, in whose lies
Innocence was corrupted and laid waste.
The blackness of the mind coupled with all
The searing pain of Roman gibbet borne
Renders almost lifeless the Lamb of God
Too weak, so it would seem, to summon what
Was needed to counter the serpent’s wiles.
The blackness in the mind is now quite still
As if to fall was pointless, for as now
The eyes of Him who undertook the will
Of Yahweh now behold two eyes close by,
Two dull yet searing fiery orbs that tear
Into the weakened mind that helpless hangs
Suspended, gasping, paralysed and still,
To take yet further punishment from that
Same serpent who, in cowardly reproach
Plays with his victim, who now tossed about
By lies, insinuation and untruth
As spat out with forked tongue and hissing mouth
Is helpless to answer the coaxing which
Is hurled at Him as fiery darts that pierce
His mind. His soul now weakened to the point
Where all reproof, rebuke and retort seem
Utterly pointless, dumb beyond belief.
The helpless Lamb is taken, in his mind,
Now numb, all mental strength beyond His reach
Into a room which thus befits a court
In which those to be tried are forced to stand.
The serpent writes upon a bare, plain wall
An accusation odious and foul
Another set of vicious lies to make
The Lamb of God confess in weakened state
As if to render Yahweh’s will defunct
Of meaning, purpose and life-giving power.
The serpent, his eyes fixed upon the Lamb
Writes with his open hand one word: ‘Mene’
And enters into one way discourse thus:
“You who say that you are the Son of God,
Resplendent on a throne of heavenly grace,
Deluded by your thoughts of perfection
As if you could, as mortal man, believe
That by you all things could created be?
What have you to say to the word written
Upon this wall inscribed by my true hand?
You have no Godhead, no divinity
You are the Son of Man, you said as much
Upon this earth which is by all means mine.
You have convinced no-one of Godhead state
Instead you hang upon a common cross
The fate of false usurping criminals
Whose treasonous words and acts do bring them down.
Your days are numbered, Yahweh hides his face
And disowns you, mere mortal that you are.
How dare you think of yourself as so pure
And perfect in the sight of Yahweh God.
Away with you to suffer and be damned
There is no need for grace in this my world.”
The Lamb of God, on hearing Satan’s words
Of accusation borne of hostile rant
Yet borne of jealousy, makes no reply.
Too weak to answer, scriptures all but gone
Out of His mind to offer right reproof.
He knows that he is righteous, that he does
His Father’s will and knows that he must take
The bitter cup of anguish, trial and pain.
Yet answers not, the serpent once again
Placed his hand on the bare and jagged wall
And wrote again a second time: ‘Mene’
Accusing as before in twisted words:
“You said you would rebuild the temple in
Three days, yet it still stands as testament
To your true falsehood, litany of lies.
Heaven belongs to Yahweh, you have no
Ownership or right to claim a place
At His right hand, that is reserved for me.
For when you die, victory will be mine
And you will lie corrupted in the earth
To be remembered and spoke of no more.
Mere humans still laugh at you as you hang
Upon the gibbet that is your true fate
And destiny for those who dare to state
A kingship false, you only crown is thorns.”
A second time, the Lamb of God is dumb,
Too weak to offer any sound reproof
To counter and lay waste the serpent’s lies
And soon begins to doubt His destiny
Of truth and beauty, humankind restored
To regain innocence lost since the Fall
And make the path to God open to all.
The serpent’s merciless, unholy rant,
Continued as he wrote upon the wall
Another word to try and bring the Lamb
Of God into submission and admit
The lies spoken thus far were naught but truth.
The word thus written, ‘Tekel’, was to weigh
Him down and make Him finally admit
The falsehood of the poisonous tirade.
The serpent, growing stronger in his mind
Accused the Lamb of God as thus he said:
“Your death will not make any difference
To how mere mortals think or speak or act.
They are in ruins, destitute of aid
Their disobedience has led them thus.
They could have held obedience good and true
To Yahweh but they chose the path of death
Urged on by greed to partake of that fruit
Whereby they believed they could be like God.
Into their bellies fell the poisonous meal
Into their minds came knowledge not reserved
For them and all their kindred yet to come.
What makes you think that you, mere Son of Man,
Are any different from them? What makes
You think that you can deliver mortals
From the path which, freely, they have chosen
And is their right to choose as they see fit?
You have been weighed, uneven are the scales
Upon which you and your words have been placed,
And actions you think you performed the while
You walked the earth with your simple minded
Sheep who believed and gobbled up your lies
Now find themselves scattered and without hope.”
The Lamb of God, in mental pain distraught
Once more unable to find a reply
To Satan’s vicious onslaught, silence kept.
Aware of Satan’s unprovoked attack
Tried to dismiss the thoughts that thus assailed
His mind, yet found himself trapped and alone.
The serpent, now deluded in his mind
That all things now in his possession are,
And sneering at the hapless Lamb of God
Now flung his final searing fiery dart
Into the heart of Him who suffered cruel
And horrid mental discourse but by which
Could offer no response, but racked in pain
Upon the cross accepted what he chose
To undergo, though doubts assailed within.
The tempter rallied all his might and strength
To beat the Lamb of God and make Him feel
That all things have now been snatched from His hands
Now wrote upon the wall the word ‘Parsin’
And with a shout of triumph, thundered forth:
“Where are your words of scripture, Son of Man
To make me feel that I am powerless
To utter words of truth that are all mine?
Those forty days of long ago when you,
Spurred on by your misplaced deluded state
Of royal sonship, now are history.
Look at yourself and see just what you are:
A common criminal without a friend
To help you in your time of need, or give
Sweet words of comfort that you long to hear.
The truth is that because you will die soon
And have no part in any common plan
To give mere mortals everlasting hope
Of salvation from their own sinfulness.
Divided are you from the source of good
To which you once thought of yourself a part.
Your death will mark your end, and you shall rot
Under the soil never to rise again.
Such is your fate, unholy Son of Man,
You stand accused of heinous wicked crimes
Against Yahweh and all His creation.
I will replace you and will reign beside
The Creator at His most high right hand.
Be gone you vile serpent, waste away
No longer do I wish to see your face.”