And The Rain
With an almost deafening roar the rain is pouring down, Drenching all who venture outside, saturating the ground. Silently a small crowd stands braving the winds that rage, History matching earths tormented groans, that come from a turning page. And the rain... the raining just goes on. Lightning flashes across the sky illuminates faces, showing all their fears,
Some crying openly, others attempt to hide their tears They huddle there in silence, broken only by another thunderous roar, Earthquake rips the land again, shaking it to its core. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
A deadly hush falls across the land, the moon passes over the sun,
The universe in mourning, for what is done is done. One man cries his loss, then brokenly falls down to his knees, The end of all his hopes and dreams are all he sees. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
Temple priests stand inside marveling at nature’s angry skies,
Turn back quickly to their prayers when once more the earth cries. Blinded by the very rituals that bind them, till now they cannot see, Even as the veil is rent, opening to the world the Holiest of the Holy. And the rain... the raining just goes on. On the hills, breathes His last, the man they accused and crucified. The terrible anger unleashed as this mere mortal bent His head and died. His blood still fresh, drips and trickles down the wooden cross, Men and women, who knew Him, find no measure for their loss. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
Finally they lower His broken body from that old tree, From where the Romans hung Him, to mock this king and all to see. Each wrist is smashed from the piercing of the nail, The priests and soldiers flee, when the rain turns into hail. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
Tired and hurting they carry His body to the tomb, His followers, those who love Him and the woman who bore Him in her womb. Clean the body and bind it in the clothes of purest white, Then, in anguish, leave Him to His rest in anguish, go home for the night. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
The soldiers came, ordered by their masters into the dark Roll the heavy bolder across the entrance to the grave in the park. Terrified but obedient the guards find a place to stand till the dawn, As not so far away, disciples wail and mourn. And the rain... the raining just goes on. Curse the rain that has not quit since that fateful eve, Hating to have to stay, but these soldiers cannot leave. The body priceless because of the claims He made, Though they hate this job, the Roman soldiers stayed. And the rain... the raining just goes on. Three days have passed, when the woman finds her way. To the tomb of her master, to lay flowers there today. She had risen early to make to this place by first light, When she got closer though, not a soldier was in sight. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
Slowed now to a drizzle, the rain of the break of day, No longer angry the sky turns from black to gray. But she cares for nothing, as panic chills her to the bone, For the tomb that she stands in, the body of her Lord is gone. And the rain... the raining just goes on.
Turning to the only other man at this place, She begs for the body, but never sees His face. A gardener she thinks, hears her broken pleas, When He finally speaks, she opens her eyes and sees. And the sun... the sunshine has begun. D.J. Quinn
Friday, November 22, 2002
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