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The Son, The Cross, and the Crown

by Danette Kettwich

The sun shown down
Upon the crown
The gems did shine and glisten.
Rainbows of light
Prisms delight
You can hear them if you listen.

Angelic tune
Of hope and doom
A rainbowic serenade
The sun plays off
The golden loft
No other beauty has been made

For you shall see
How came to be
The golden jeweled splendor
Fit for the kings
Of Angelic wings
A story sweet and tender.

A son was born
A world that's torn
A king not wholly exalted
Taught of a love
Spirit like a dove
Beauty on a tree was halted.

A crown of gold
Was given mold
By a vine set upon a brow
Tinged with blood
A cleansing flood
Did refine to gold somehow.

The shapely clasps
Venom of asps
A soldier eagerly lended
To hold him tight
Though no fight
None of this deemed splendid

The death of one
When it was done
The earth now seemed darkened
Evil proclaimed,
"Put out the flame!"
"We have won!" They hearkened

The stones were made
Within a grave
And brought out of the darkness
They looked no more
Of iron ore
Fashioned still in starkness.

You see the crown
Has to be found
The gift yet to be received
Grace was given
Death has arisen
The crown becomes those who believe

My crown no more
Than made of ore
On a path alone I tarried
Until received
And believed
The light to me Christ Carried

The Son shines down
Upon my crown
The gems do shine and glisten
Rainbows of light
Prisms delight
I'll share if you want to listen

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Click Here to contact Danette Kettwich to request permission to use this poem.