There was a time when I was unrighteous,
I think I liked it better then.
As the knife drew blood from the Ram
The mans’ eyes were tired and worn
His legs were heavy and his face was lorn
With many nations his heart was heavy
His son watched naked and afraid
As the blade cut and opened
Thoughts were mysteries to both
They were alien from each other
The past was gone and the future was not.
Only the present moments on that mountain were felt
The animal, noisy as it was, died quickly
And the two were alone again
With each other
Lit from above
And the wind wouldn’t stop till home
But before they went down
The man called his son once more to him
And as he looked into his sons deep eyes
And as he felt a hint of shame
He gave his son his own coat and the knife
And his son buried it where they stood.