The kiss of Judas

Oh thee lord of Nazareth.
Hear me, an assassin’s grieve
whilst the echo burns the walls
-of thy immortal realm;
as thee heaven refused to shelter
the being of us weakens.
Spare me, a few coins of silver
minus the ones with blood stains-dried,
red clots, set in the midst of
the thrones, the crown, the cross and thee.
Where the nails were; an inch deep
rests now the salvation we seek.
Speak Now! Voice thee reasons;
though seamless; seems us feelings.
the meanings are the ones we need of.
Redeemed by the grace and raised from the dead;
is it I? -for I’ve lost me faith. The doubts;
darker the soul grew; were concealed within.
The hour was at hand for many
but me, for I was blind.
Master is it I? It is.

By Dilan Samathilake (alias Dilan daDevil)