Transparent

Underneath the white dress swaying in the wind,
I can see his secret pain,
Like a chaff which our thoughts drive to hate.
Before Satan engulfed our minds,
This rose did once love,
When oppressed hypocrites never looked back.
Four shades hate him all the same,
This universal hate.

But with this flowing symbol of treacherous purity,
They only accept what they understand with eyes.
His will, his birth, nor his nurture caused his death.
But since they follow what they think they know,
They slaughter to fix his deviance.

Holy Master grant us grief,
If our struggles mend our hearts,
That when pricked,
The blood has a melodious taste.
And when changed,
Our faith holds no hate.
For the Rubber Maiden smelled of incense
And cared for the dirtiest child.

Who will bring light to our ignorant faith?
Where are those truly sent?
For that cloth which flows for them to see,
And is white to those simple shades of people,
Is not a color to us who see people,
And the cloth flows for everyone to breathe.

He smiles an enduring smile,
That no hatred can ever guild.
This pure love is treacherous to them.
This pure love is what egos fear.
Forgive me if it will mend your heart,
I must, for grief has mended mine.

When the other oppressed are set free,
As we remember some broken-glassed night,
Embrace my embracing and let me eat,
Lest send me to the chambers,
Where I may wash my feet.
How shall a paragraph determine my fate?
Pray for those who hate,
For He loves the oppressed ones.