These bones and flesh and teeth and hair,
Can there be more? A ghost inside?
Of proof there is but empty sighs
Beneath the cold exterior
Where am I?
A dream within a dream entrapped
The snare of sleepers silly naps
Reality and fantasy
Bliss and truth and travesty
Why am I?
Does God or gods take care of thee?
Aware above of creature's screams?
Engaging, raging, ignorance,
The character is what's in question
Who is he?
A master of fine carpentry?
A servant bound by scripture's claims?
A humble subsitute for thee?
A sorrowful son dying
Where is he?
Up in the clouds, under the sea?
Perhaps in distant galaxies,
Or not at all, the space we see
Could ne'er behold the densest glory
Why is he?
This inquiry, "how was he wrought?"
It troubles me, a god of birth
A maker born as you and I
could ne'er be praised, a mortal cursed
Who am I?
A soul, a heart, a son, a friend,
A lover, traitor, sinful, man
Attained by force from evil thieves,
Returned to rest, eternally
Written by C.
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