forgiveness is a thin red line

Jesus was a freak
with sunlight in his hair
the devil points his finger
and ten thousand days are numbered
then instantly rehashed...
still
condemned to the same calamitous past;
the future turns on a dime
unannounced and renounced
as if nothing could ever change,

venturing out from the cloud
of our confusion
we never
see it coming
like some proverbial beast
gasping for ten last words
between condemnation and redemption
in our beleaguered trial of fire
mired in the constancy of fate;
and now the stage is set for the present
a thin red line
crossed over,
a stone's throw from hell,
and the burning sting of hate.

Buddha sits contemplating his belly,
and emptiness returns us to life
the dove of peace
descends with the flaming heart of love.