and the world will too

Jūan 1934

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On the third day

a rose again.  

The thorns pierce  

what little I have left. 

I wear my crown  

with valor. 

 

An entry less wound  

that aches of which aches

twist, it’ll be something I remember.  

 

Inherit my blood and water. 

As a memento of my sacrifice.

And you. Our. Us.  

As it lay in the scripture.  

 

I offer you more than my body to feast on.  

In hopes I am clean.  

 

Laugh you may.  

One day.  

It will all make sense.  

 

In the vein

of the daughter

and of the sun. 

unholy merit

 

Lou