Disillusioned.
Mismatched expectations
versus
reality.
A gray miasma lingers,
infiltrating
door sills,
obscuring hope.
A light flickers
in Nazareth -
I am here,
he says -
look where
my coming
was predicted.
Focus your eyes
on me,
see how I sacrifice
my power -
I lay it down
and
die for you.
Watch how I live
to see how I treat
the other,
how I wrestle
the darkness
seeing hope spring
from spark
into flame
as I heal the bruised,
forgive digressions
and bind up
the damaged.
Lift up your eyes;
you too can do this
through me.
I am still active
in the world.
Look at me
and not the gray
miasma.
Look at me.
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