Thirty pieces of silver, a
slave’s price,
I took for the life of the
Lord of Life.
Not out of greed, nor drear
despite;
but out of love: twisted,
yet bright.
I cared to be noted.
To be a
part of His world:
preferring lambent hate
(not
to be ignored)
to dim indifference;
for
she’s the truly frigid
antagonist of ardour’s
heat.
He blessed my bread
then, with gentlest
deference,
So with Him then I could not
rightly stay,
and I stepped into the
night:
not out of spite, nor sweet
revenge;
but out of love: twisted yet
bright.
I desired to affect Him.
To constrict Him to react to
my brazen act.
Not to reject me: but
account me
as a relevant and worthy
opponent:
He knelt in prayer, his soul
alight with fear and pain.
I gave him my kiss:
not out of treason, nor
harsh betrayal;
but out of love: twisted yet
bright.
He
called me friend.
For me He’s to die.
not kind caress, nor gentle
word.
Now my heart is broken.
redeeming the life I’d
sadly sold:
not out of anger, nor wish
to slight;
but out of love: twisted yet
bright.
Now He is mine, as He hangs
on high
and redeems my life from the
grave.
Not out of need, or hope of
gain;
but out of love: faithful
and brave.
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