The silent Christ spoke only with His eyes –
hanged from an invisible cross.
His sheep not scattered but, becoming lions
and dragons, becoming torches
roaming the night. The
silent Christ
marveled at the intricacies of His own effort
and the trouble God took for just one Word.
Spoke with His eyes, His blood, bones,
heart and brain to call forth loudly
His children from the wilderness
which has enveloped them
to His table of bread and wine.
The silent Christ lies in sweet repose
as the hue and cry of the world echoes
and fades around Him, His work completed
one hundred percent, His silence going about now,
methodically, drowning out
the blasphemies of the world.
O child of God, be silent yourself. Don’t speak
of things you know so very little about.
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