Christians
A foreign race
To the cynic
Or evolved man;
Their gentle peace
Their open joy
How can one understand
How they can throw their lives away
For some enchanting story
That someday
Someone
Somewhere
Out there
Will call them home in glory?
As whimsical as it might seem
Sometimes I can't but help
To bite my lip
And dare to dream
That someone might love
Myself
Enough to have nails
Tear through His wrists
And mockers to spit and scorn
All in the desperate hope and plea
That I might be reborn
And as He hung there
And thought of those
Who'd betrayed and abandoned Him
Was it enough
To make Him smile
To know He bore my sin?
So I question this eternal gift
Sent centuries before
A life of love
A heart of peace
Wrapped up
Outside my door