Ngano?

The day you died
Judas must have thought:
"This was a man who had loved me,
who gave me a chance when no one else could.
What have I done?!"

As the haze of deception clears from my eyes
All I could see is this crimson stain
on the floor
and it's all over my hands.

It's on my shirt,
It's even on my hair.

All I see is red.
The room is drenched in red.

Is this the gravity of my wrongs?
Is this the depth of my depravity?

How long had I cultivated my pride?
How long had I sought my own adoration?

Exhaustion sets in my bones.
I had longed for this moment,
to fully grasp how it is to hurt
a tender Man that I love.

How I wish that I were born
into such tenderness
that even through murder I would still be loved.

To honor.


What does that mean?


To love?



Did I even know what that meant?







But as Your blood turns to water that washes me free...




Only then do I realize what a relief it is that those crown of thorns you wore were not pushed upon my own head.

I pray to love You in only the way You deserve.


Meanwhile I cry, in my self-imposed exile.