The Maker’s Blood

Particles of citrate,
In cytoplasm swim.
Protons pump through membranes,
Deep inside of Him.
A complex dance of phosphates–
Of acids, charge, and base–
Build beautiful vitality
With acetylcholinesterase…

A wonder in a circle swirls,
A mitochondrial caper,
A picture of perfection,
Deep inside its Maker.

But Lo! The mitochondria scream
In hypoxemic horror,
The lovely systems crumble down,
In apoptotic gore.
Glycogen in desperation
Fills anaerobic blood,
Split to keep the thoughts alive
Within the Son of God.

As His blood pours out
Upon the ancient earth
A picture of the price of sin,
In waste of Greatest Worth.

Joyful memories fading
‘Midst Wilis’ circle deep
As lungs combat hypoxia
And quiver in a heap.
Oh awesome, awful ruin,
Lungs squeeze a final breath,
Weep tears for wasted wonder at
The sickening scythe of Death!

As His nerves are seared
His skin is ripped apart,
A picture of an awesome love
That fills the Maker’s heart.

The sun has ceased its spinning
The ground itself doth grow
A mirror of the crumbling man
That slips beneath death’s cowl.
As all the cosmos cries aloud
Amid unnatural night
And ghosts leap out of graveyards,
Screaming, “‘Tis not right!”

God Himself is slaughtered.
In sinners’ grave He lies,
A picture of vast irony,
An ultimate surprise!

And hosts of men will wonder,
Who walk great Roman roads,
Their timelines torn asunder,
By spilling of God’s blood.
Injected in the eons,
Salvation and good news,
The crimson pools beneath Him,
Mix out despairing hues.

The plan of God in entropy
Stops entropy’s dread plots.
A picture of unexpected hope,
The triumph over rot!