Meek as a lamb ferocious as a lion
His feet shine like burning bronze and his eyes lit like a California wildfire
Scratch that
His eyes blaze like hot metal beaten in molten lava
His presence consumes me like a gasoline-drenched scarecrow on the surface of the sun.
Go ahead and call the caterers, start up the ceremony, he is crowned the King's son.
Let me add to that statement, He IS the King...son.
A walking duality, yet perfectly composed.
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata..
and Schubert's Unfinished symphony..
is William Hung karaoke compared to the graceful rhythm of his life.
Who else you know can walk with grace and truth?
Perfection and hunger?
Mercy and high standards?
Nobility to make the crown of England look like potato farmers in Ireland
and humility to make a gutter kid from Calcutta a prince in comparison.
And yes I work hyperbole because these fleshly brains can't comprehend an iota of who he is.
I'm just a bowl trying to explain to other pottery the complexity of the Potter.
A vapor trying to describe the size of the cumulonimbus.
A subatomic particle to other particles the infinitude of the universe.
So please excuse my verses if I don't answer your questions
But the quest from which all men's souls thirst started in Bethlehem
took an intermission in Jerusalem
had sequels and spin-offs around the Mediterranean
and is now showing at the church near you.
Scratch that.
His splendor is shown from the glory of creation
waves crashing
earth splitting and baby burps spitting..
To the duality of good and evil in my soul
So let's ditch your understanding and throw away your religion
Church hats, stuffy suits and classy looks...please!
My Christ is too fly to locked down in your dull, frail prison
With more vibrancy of color than Joseph's jacket reflected in a prism
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