Perfect Plan, Perfect Price
Woven tightly on His head,
Reeds of thorns, discolored red.
Vision blurred, eyes so weak.
Broken voice, He tries to speak.
Lips so dry, about to crack,
Raised red whelps across His back.
Spiked to wood, the crowd demands,
His feet, His caring hands.
Pierced veins, muscles torn
Naked body thus forlorn.
gall to drink, unquenchable thirst,
spat upon, grossly cursed.
Downcast friends, broken hearts
Shaken earth; veil that parts
Opened tombs, souls released
Pain and agony decreased
Execution is complete
Sin is vanquished in defeat.
Earthly body laid to rest
Mourners saddened and depressed
Lamenters rift, beset with gloom.
Stone removed, empty tomb,
Risen Savior, sacrifice,
Perfect plan, Perfect price
rancherwriterpoet 