Behold

This is from the Christmas times.

Behold the lamb of God
Behold the still street
The sleeping world awaits me
I run through the air
My lungs get caught in the musty
mother of the night
Fog drips onto my face like dew
No care in the world for the moment
Surprising.
I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
most days.
Not this one
Surely he hath bore our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Am I to love the inconvenient and the annoying?
Is that my purpose?
He was despised, he bore Sorrow
Sorrow pitted deep
in pain and bitterness
Get out. Get out damned spot.

I wrote this while listening to Handel's Messiah