The Easter bells are chiming

The lamb wraps itself in its wool
when the farm is auctioned.
There was a time when it took away
the guilt of the world
in a cloud, but of bloodmist.
It carried away
the errors   turned flesh.

Today it is dying and dies
in the shade of the good and of evil.
The will of the father,
gone sour.
From under the hammer we always
emerged, still:
hardpressed, and successful.
 
 
 
 

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