Trail Of Hope

The Altar is stripped,
hushing the frivolous spirit,
light through the stainglass
shines pure color
holy wonder
on the black shrouded
rough wooden cross

The temple veil was torn
beginning from the high ceiling
down to the floor
exposing the holiest of all.

There was midnight darkness
at midday.

There was a funeral
two thousand years ago
that we never forget.

It ended with an explosion
of ascendant life.

Now there is hope,
a way of hope,
a trail of hope to follow,
for us all.