The Tearing Of The Temple Curtain Poem by Al J. Cuesta

Through the valleys of Darkness
They saw a shimmering Light
The Mother, The Father and the Son
Gathered round tightly all through the night
Thought of how they could reach for the light
N' Fought relentlessly to fight the fright
That had suddenly been bestowed upon them

Lay upon the Father a bewildering guilt
Lay upon the Mother an indecent uncertainty
Lay upon the Child a soul free from hate

But the hour, ‘tis late
Said the Joker
But the time, ‘tis past
Said the Thief

For the clock has struck ten
Together, in virtue or sin
Will come to join thy true kingdom
For at the end of your road comes freedom
So fear not, for the battle is already lost
Your bridge now stands clear, waiting to be crossed

While the Mother bathes his Son
While the Father watches from afar
His hands, N' feet turn to dust
Return he will, whenever he must
To observe: The Tearing of the Temple Curtain