The blessed. The damned. The wise. The fools.
We are they all.
Perspective takes her hold on the minds of all
while humanity peers through windows stained with the stuff of life.
Freed for love by one who chose to die,
a wise innocent, seen as a fool, portrayed as a heretic,
thrust into the midst of a mob screaming for blood.
Failures fallen from the altar of success and wealth,
abandoned to a generous hope
that only few can even begin to grasp.
A wisdom of beggars and blind, lepers and lame,
the wisdom of a crucified god,
suffocating to death on a cross constructed for a murderer.
Are we all,
dancing for delight on streets paved with piss and shit,
bowing before the body of our dead god,
the example we follow when the influence of perspective's grasp
loses its hold.