THE ORDEAL OF THE PILGRIM

I

JUDGED, TIED AND CONDEMNED 
BY THE HANDS OF MEN,

IN FRONT OF THE OLIVES, 
THE ROAD OF SORROWS BEGAN,

FACING THE SAME TREE, 
WHERE THE TRAITOR HANGED,

CONVICTION, DARK SANEDRIN, 
SHROUD WEAVED ON HARMS,

THREE TIMES BY THE ROCK DENIED,

OPENING THE DOOR OF FORGIVENESS,

I DIDN’T DOUBT MY GOD, 
SOUGHT THE WAY TO GIVE YOU MY ARMS.

BOTH THAT WERE MISSING, 
AND MADE YOUR PAIN MINE.

LETTING THE PEOPLE HAIL, 
FOR THE JUSTICE OF THE BLIND,

WAITINGS OF TWO MILENIUMS BEHIND.

STILL BLIND THE EYES, 
REMAIN WITHOUT SENSES THE HEARTS,

TIED BY A ROME OF COWS, 
FURROWING YOURS SKINS WITH WHIPS.

CROWNED OF BITTER THORNS OF HUNDRED OF SHINY TOUCHS,

GLANCED YOUR BLOOD THE GRIEF,

THE MOTHER OF THE SORROWS AND THE TEARS,

EIGHTTEEN METERS DECIDED YOUR LIFE,

THE SAME WHO BURIED THE LANCE,

THE ONE THAT CARRIED THE HAND, 
THE LEFT OF VINEGAR WHITE.

THE WEIGHT OF THE BEAMS, 
SUNK YOUR SHOULDERS DEEP,

YOUR FALLEN ARMS, EXHAUSTED AND LIGHT,

ON A NARROW COURSE OF VIOLET STONES,

EMBRACING THE LOADS…OF HUNDRED OF NAKED SOULS.

COLOR OF GREEDINESS DEATH.

YOU FALL ONCE WITH HER, 
YOUR ARMS…AND YOUR HANDS,

BLASFEMIES!, SCREAMS,
FROM THE ABODE OF THE SNAKE.

RANCID VENOM OF BIFURCATED TONGUES,

THE GROUND…OPENED AT YOUR FEET.

KEPT IT UNDER MY SOUL, 
DIPPED UNDER ITS LIGHT, ABSENT CROSS,

YOU SHALL BE THE BURDEN OF MEN,

SHALL BE YOUR ARMS…THEIRS.

DRAGGING THEIR ROTTEM OF CRESTFALLEN GLANCE.

THEY SHALL EAT FROM YOUR FLESH.

THEY SHALL DRINK FROM YOUR BLOOD,.

HYPOCRITS, DISDAINED SWARM OF COLORLESS BEES.

NAILING STINGS…INOCULATING POISON, EXTREMAUNTIONS.

FALSELY TRUES SEEKING FORGIVENESS,

WHEN NEEDLES DON'T GO THROUGH,

THOUSAND OF CAMELS EYES.

AGAIN THE FALL, RESTING ON YOUR CHEEK, THE LAST ONE.

RAISED GLANCE…SEARCHES, WAITS,

WRAPPED CONSOLATION, OF THE MOTHERS OF YOUR LAND.

TWO STEEL NAILS, DRILLED TWO HOLY HANDS,

THE COLD PENETRATED YOUR FEET, RIGID ON THE LOST CROSS.

WATCHING THE KINDLY THIEF.

YOUR SAINTLY MOTHER, AND THE WITNESS OF TIMES.

PROMESING THE KINGDOM OF LOVE.

ELOY, ELOY!…LAMA SABACTHANI?.

MY GOD!...MY GOD!...WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME ?.

FATHER…IN THEE I COMMEND MY SPITIT.

YOUR LAST BREATH, CUT THE WIND, 
MOISTED BY THEIR TEARDROPS,

YOUR BODY WAITS, 
SLACKEN BY THREE ROPES.

MARY AWAITS, TO GIVE SHELTER IN HER ARMS.

ROLLED THE WHITELY STONE, 
SETTING YOUR BODY COLD.

EMOTIONS CARVED OVER A GRAY OF HOPE.

FROM THE SCARY DARK, 
THE SILENCE, THE MUTE SPACE.

UPROOT THE LIFE, TREMBLING FROM YOUR FEET,

THE STONE… ROLL ALONG THE LEFT, 
I HERD YOUR STEPS.

I FELT YOUR SMELL, I FELT YOUR HANDS, I FELT YOUR WORDS,

AT THE WEST OF THE ENCON.

I FOUND YOUR ARMS,
¡HELP ME GOD WITH MY CROSS!.