Who was the angel
who consoled you
in the Mount of Olives
blood streaming with your sweat
the light in your soul less
than the drops of moon rays
climbing down the branches
to the patch of grass
under your sunken body
aghast at the realization
that being human is only
a stage within an staggered plan
to carry all flesh
to the transparency of the light
away from the thickness of stones,
water, earth and the shadows of thought?

 

But you were alone,
a man rejected by his tribe,
sold by his friends,
ignored by those you loved,
indifferent to your high call,
to the urgency of your mission,
to the hope that a distant goal
makes any difference,
and you felt instead the weight
of what a man is:
the target of rejection
the indifference to good deeds
the impossibility to feel responsibility
for the whole human race
the living and the dead
when its members reject your effort
and point their fingers
for the authorities to kill you
-- scape goat of their inequities--
as they live in peace.

 

Why did you feel
that theirs was the peace of the dead,
that they had buried the wings of the flesh
under their wired tongues,
that without your sacrifice
their life would sink below
the underworld of redemption
and delay salvation
for another million years,
or was it, perhaps, much less,
another turn
of the sand dial’s hand,
a time for the priests
to let Moses rest
from blowing the horns of the Ram
and let the Fish in
with your death
to usher a New Age.
It’s written in the stars
with the Equinoxes Precession
and the birth of a child in Virgo
to live, die and resurrect
the way the sun dial rests
in the Winter Solstice
and moves again in three days
on its way to a new season.
If it was written in the stars
who did imprint it, and why,
in the hearts of the people?
Wouldn’t it be better to be crucified
in the sky on a cross of stars
than on a wooden cross on Golgota?
Why wouldn’t you know
and run with your life
instead of making religion
of the science of the sky,
if you had not yet risen
or been crucified
or had a church named after you
or written Gospels
or rent the Tablets of the Temple
as you died?

 

Who was the angel
who consoled you
and what did she say
to make you surrender
your body to death
for your soul was in the dark
and could not understand,
nor know, or even hope
you were going to win?

 

How did you know you were good,
the chosen Messiah of the science of the stars,
when you had no sons, no wife,
no equals, no job,
nor fell in love,
and broke the law?

 

Who was the angel
who consoled you?

 

From Moksha Smith: Agni's Warrior Sage

by Antonio de Nicolas