Clad in trinkets hiding wounds,
The silent arm gently swayed,
Watching the blade's brazen glint,
For a clean cut he prayed.Again, but with a difference. Or perhaps the only difference lay in Mary's reaction. Perhaps Christ was no longer the pillar of hope and sanity that he thought himself to be. Or perhaps Nazareth's crown of thorns had swayed her away. Restlessly he had battled within for over an hour deliberating the merits and cons of having a conversation that could only go 3 way, each way playing word by word in parallel inside the confines of his highly efficient brain.
*An hour of dabbling in holy smoke later Christ finally summoned up the wits to have that conversation with Mary*
Mary often observed that the there lies absolute chaos in things well panned out. And the most clarity lies within chaos. What we truly are and what we choose to become depends on choices that lie in the hands of those most ill suited to take them. And yet we allow them to. Christ could relate to that, his entire life had been proving the same!
But despite his well put words, for he could put them across really well, there seemed no difference in Mary's pattern that always ended up in invoking extreme loathing for the self. But the thing with hate is, you just can't hate specific targets. Once you invoke the demon of hate, it shall trudge its way up from the bloody pit only to swallow one and all in its way.
But what Christ always failed to grasp was the fact that words well meant are most misunderstood and often become the preludes for more saiyances to summon more and more demons from the pit of self wallowing and destruction. Can you imagine the pain of the saintly man who watches a lover writhe and cry before succumbing to a grotesque fate, right at the altar of their love? And then as the cherry on the cake, he is then made to carry the very coffin of his lover, strapped to his chest with the casket open so that nothing is allowed to escape his eyes. And he does so willingly. Such a masochist himself, Jesus effin Christ!
Cuts, blunt and too many,
Suffering that never seemed enough,
His friend perhaps best,
Tough love or perhaps just rough.
Where reason fails does will survive,
Free will, a burden or a reprise,
The irrelevance of words,
Often lies in the best advice.