I know you...
of you at least.
or maybe more. Maybe I've seen you in my heart.
In my mind I wonder if what I see is a remnant of things you were seeing.
I ask you Son of Man. I ask you in no elevated tone or stature, for whom am I to ask
I am not any one man that could demand an answer,
but I ask...
How alone were you?
As a man aware of a kingdom... your kingdom,
and your people, angry, violent and proud.
Did it break your heart to look them in the eyes and see their thirst for stature?
How could it not?
How many times did you just want to be alone?
Because they didn't understand.. or many of them didn't care to..
Did you retreat to the shoreline to gaze upon the reflective waters, and reflect upon them?
What crossed your mind? Did you think of the beginning?
When there was just water, and darkness, and a hovering spirit over it?
Where you able think on it? Were you distracted by the swarms of people that crowded around you?
Was there isolation within the company?
Then I think of them, the men, the ones that knew every rule.
They knew the Torah through and through but,
They didn't know what it means to live it. Or, live it right.
I want to know what you saw when you looked in their eyes.
Did you hate them the way God hated Esau?
Was your anger burning slowly, and righteous?
where you with grief? A sadness dripping in as you peered into their
souls and saw them destroying things with the means of imparting life?
I see it.
I've seen it. So many times when I have looked at them.
Occasionally when i've looked within.
Graceless as they were or I've been.
Isn't that the thrust of it all? Compassion, servitude, for us, for each other.
Why is it that we have such a hard time with that?
The taking care of each other.
Isn't that why you washed their feet?
or fed the crowds
or healed them
... It was always for them.
Was your life lonely as it was lived for others, whom lived for themselves?
I know it mattered to you, to matter to them...
How disappointed were you when they wouldn't stay awake for even an hour, in your final hours
it annoy you when you told them everything that was going to play out,
and even, as it was playing out, and they still did not understand?
Was there any comfort found in the words of the thief, that as he died, he knew you...
that he saw you truly?
Tell me Son of God,
as you are, in what you have done, and what I have seen, as I fall and fail and stagger, and try to stand again...
Will you call me friend?
do you look at me as you did Peter?
My desire is to walk with you, and yet still, the undertow tends to take my focus.
I know you are King, I know you are worthy. I know you are holy.
I know these things. I know them about you,
but it terrifies me that though I know much of you, that I may not really know you.
Will you tell me, if it is pleasing to you, do I see you truly?
Do I know you as you are?