climbing the glass

i am like the spider

climbing the glass window

keep slipping

to the bottom

of unemployment

and poverty

making no progress

in prosperity

whatsoever;

except a poetic rhythm!

but i like the tiny creature

keep struggling

in which there is music

transforming into an energy

maintaining a movement

within my soul

carrying a dream

of becoming a new being

cherishing the dance

of the man from Nazareth

wearing the crown

of thorns

and crucified with nothing

but his loin cloth

and to be buried

by the little known Nicodemus

a dance impossible

and seldom found in a Bishop

wearing a miter, a pectoral cross

an amethyst stone, and slimy vestments

a contemporary high priest

robed in Pilate’s robe

henry victor      17.05.2007