A Passion poem

Dark, dismal, the Light was dimmed,
The hope of life and love was lost.
Strung up in shame, a sight for ridicule
No one wanted to claim him.

Rags, tatters of respect and acclaim fell from him like rats leaving a ship
As one by one they left.
Even those who claimed such yen
Denied their former joy.

And so, he hung, there upon perpendicular tree.
On a simple structure of cruelty.
Surrounded by jeering criminals one and two,
Yet one, saw the gleam from within.

Pain and isolation triumphed, seemingly the battle done.
"It is finished," a final defeat?
And as the sun set, a despondent globe.
It seemed evil had the hand!

A day passed, many tears wept.
What hope, what chance remained?
Why oh why did it happen so?
But joy, had no hope.

Yet, Sunday morn, the power of three,
would raise anew a victor.
The tears no more would have meaning.
He was still alive.

"I am come again, in glory"
Come to save you!
No longer will your awful misdeeds
Keep you from my arms.

My love is sufficient; more; an overflow
To keep you from all despair.
For in this act of sacrifice
I bring you everlasting life!

It may seem strange,but twas always the plan
My ways are not your ways.
When a King becomes a mere nothing
That's when death has finally died!

Now love them like I love you.
Do for them what you can.
Give your life, your love and most of all
Exclaim to them of me and my love.