His Entrance
The world, unready, cannot understand
and blinded, ordered universe is feared
destroyed. Our paradise is lost. In hand
they hold impressive fronds. Dark eyes are teared,
reflecting mirrors disclosing nothing.
They shout the praises, not that they know why,
preparing way for one assumed a king
by some, and yet he said he came to die.
So where is truth? How can he claim to be
a son of God? I see his skin, I know
if cut he’d bleed, if pierced would die. Like me,
composed of mortal flesh, his blood would flow,
his body break, should people turn away.
So I’ll not carry palms to wave today.
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