Cold emptiness,
silent and dim,
with perfume in the air
and mourners grim.
“I'm not finish,” He said
as He folded His sheet.
He looked up at the light
and rose from His seat.
A lifetime of teaching
for an interlude of pain,
He died on the cross
to remove the stain.
Crowning words
for a chosen few
were planted deep
and His kingdom grew.
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