Stones pounded from the dawn of time,
Pulverised into sand
That holds the cross in place;
Where the creator is crucified,
His blood soaking the soil,
Drained of his own life
As he gives it back to the world.

Laid in a tomb
Hewn from rock
On which the church might be built,
Stale with age, mouldy and dank,
But anointed and laid to rest,
As though placed in the oven
Ready for desiccation.

But DNA revives
In the Big Bang of new creation
With amino acids rejuvenated
As the dead man rises from clay,
With a fresh start on offer,
But it lays untouched in the tomb
Shrouded by the dormancy of disbelief.

April 2014

Transformation for the world, the church and us all.

Photo:  The Garden Tomb, Jerusalem