The hands of Christ are glowing bluer than ever
Their burning slow glimmer grows on the weak and weak founded
The glare that bounces from his unkind word strikes in thirds and strikes forceful
Now Christ turns his hands on to himself
Darkness
Division
Dwelling and dread
Christ is beginning to turn his hands on to the earth
The compound of earth's ether and soul
Will be scattered sparcely as stars
The heavy hollow shame in each brightness
Is cess
Is cess
Is rolling incest
Whilst Christ turns his heat on all that he meets
He cradles a newborn like thorn
So delicate he strips the pricks
So preciously he picks the rose petals
It is now Christ's turn and many among us may perish
Though dying we see the star of his son
The heat and sleet are no match for love
And Christ now takes his turn
Burn