“And Jesus uttered a load cry and breathed his last. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This Charge I have recieved from my father.”

— Jesus

An impossibly long night transitioned as daybreak traded places with dawns weakening grip,

The sliding scales of the cosmos spinning chaotically as if in deep knowledge of the gravity of this day.

Shallow breaths, quivering frame, His pure authority disguised as utter defeat.

Heat swarms the cool air of morning, as the sun claims its last victim.

A daily war fought in response to the crushing weight of the inevitable tides before this Man.

Fire rising, the spark of earth's most selfless intention born behind criminals quarters on dew-soaked stones.

Buried beneath cultures rubble, motives so otherworldly His very own could have never known.

Coming storm echos the emotions of heaven.

Bound by no man yet a slave to all, the master of every story, takes His rightful place.

Passion burning relentlessly as the rage of justice knocks on death’s door, demanding retribution for a world gone wrong.

The author of every life determined to pay the price to finish what He began.

Blinding light shatters swollen eyes. Humanities stage now in full swing.

The bearer of death consumed by healing victory. The tyranny of hell unleashed in vain. For resurrection an unseen card, meant to tear the keys from unworthy hands.

The charge of heaven fuels His racing heart, as our long-standing separation comes to a crushing end.

No burden to large, no hill too tall for this dust-covered road the pathway to the prize before his eyes.

My cry His response, our confusion His selfless solution. What he offered, he alone the power to give.

In anger, the earth quaked, like a ruler enraged the kingdoms of men fall.

The creator of all suspended, bearing the curse my conscience requested.

And within one moment the voice that formed creation embraced the cry inside histories redemption.

Our warrior king a pain laced harmony he began to sing. Head raised high in victory, an ancient triumph long in the waiting.

The Roar of Judah exploded, like the light of a beacon in the night. The place of the skull now the epicenter that makes all men whole.

The freedom that rode the sound waves of that shout still reverberates within the halls of this rescued heart.

Now alive again, I will finish the song he began. With my voice raised high I cry, all men are welcomed in!

The same breath that splintered death now resides as my very own guest.

So with these clay formed lungs, I will sing, the sound of eternity breaking free

For nothing will stop the love that’s found its home in me. No hight no depth, no length no width can rip me from His saving grip.

For my death bound soul was raised life by the sound of Jesus's voice.