I wake up on This Monday ready to swim in mourning
It is time to walk along the dusty road to the pool of blood and tears
The sweet perfume fills my nostrils and clings to my body readying me
Against the decaying smell of rotting death which I will soon embrace.
The stage is being set up and the players are getting ready to perform their parts
In the Story that is the beginning and end of every other story that ever was or ever will be.
The betrayer is getting ready to clinch the silver medals of emptiness, loneliness and despair.
The priests and lawyers are dying to make sure that I die to their illicit hopes, sour dreams and dire plans.
The governor who wants to keep his inner peace will find it dashed to pieces as he rips the truth in shreds.
The soldiers will continue to march to the inner beating of their brutality and hate and get a chance to really beat the drum more loudly to the awful tune they have decided to dance along to.
My puffed up friends will get up to run as all these enemies come to uproot the garden and fall into the fire as the cock crows in their ears.
And all these individuals will lead me to the very awful thing I will embrace for their sake, so they may not embrace it themselves.
The one who made the desert more dry and sweaty with promises of not letting my foot hit a stone, will attempt to take away the bitter cup so that the others will drink it alone, but I will drink what the Father will pour out for me as I don’t want my friends and those that might be to drink alone.
Death awaits me, thinking it will claim yet another victory not realizing when it meets me it will end its defeat. Death does not realize and understand that it is about to die.
This is what crosses my mind as I get ready to climb the mountain of skulls and drink my drink, ready to finally do what I came to creation to do.
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