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Walking by the cross
afraid to touch
afraid the blood would stain the hand
walking by the altar
afraid to worship
afraid to praise
afraid my actions be broadcasted abroad
walking by the brazen labor
afraid to wash
afraid it would mess up my hair
walking by the table
afraid to eat the bread
afraid the crumbs would soil my shirt
walking by the golden altar
afraid the smoke would pour
afraid the smell would tar my clothes
walking by the menorah
not realizing it is there
not seeing what it shows
walking before the mercy seat of the ark
realizing I could not cry
as the menorah's light showed
I had snuffed out every chance
The shadow of the cross
showing me what I had spurned
feelin the red river flowing by
repeeled from his presense
back to the ground
realizing how soiled I was
I reached out for the wood stained with blood.
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