This was written on Good Friday, 2025.

The sixth day came with silence far too long.
     The earth was empty, eager for its worth,
Until the Speaker sung the Creature Song
     And life erupted with a holy mirth
     To which, from dust, came man in his first birth.

Yet, later as his Holy Week would end
     He blessed the bread, then bled within the glade,
And, taken, stood in silence, lost of friend.
     He died the day that man at first was made
     And rested in the depths of earthly shade.
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