The Garden and the God of Loneliness

Beneath the green and leafy sheltered arch,
A place is found of solitude and peace
And yet the living glade is dry and parched
For it cannot contain what will not cease:
A sorrow crying out with boundless thirst,
Desiring to drink life but blood instead-
His own- would fill the cup to lift the curse
So that the crimson drops could lift the dead.
These thoughts flow through the human mind divine,
Such thoughts that hardly can be understood
By men who leave him there to suffer blind
With tears, nor by this peaceful, flowered wood.
And since, there has not been a loneliness
Beyond this lonely son’s redemptive yes.

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