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Golden Boy
Oh, the price You paid for me;
Broken on my knees.
For all You are, and all i’m not—
You have cried for me,
You have purchased me.

The golden boy with feet of clay,
has seen behind the mask, but cannot run away.
Though he kicks, and though he strides,
his heart of clay and he collides
with the world he’s desperate to leave behind.

But beyond the beautiful demon’s grinning bliss
there’s a Sorrowful Mother’s loving kiss.
And a wind comes up to blow it all away—
except the scarlet stain, to set aflame my heart of clay.

Oh, what a thing you’ve done—
Behold the Lamb of God; His limp and bloody Son.
He’s called me friend, He didn’t flinch at the fee,
and still He waits weeping at the window for a glimpse of me.

“This is My Body.” You gave Your soul to me.
“This is My Blood.” You give the gift for free.
“Remain, keep watch with Me.” Do You want my company?
Face in the dirt—my God, what have i done to the?

“Hail, Master!” ‘Twas sealed with a kiss.
When the sword was drawn You plead, “No more of this!”
“I don’t know the Man!!” Your friendship is ever his.
“So, You’re their King?”, “If I were, they wouldn’t be doing this”.

Spit dripping and Your face turned down.
Are You telling me something?
You are weak and You fall three times.
Are You telling me something?
Arms open wide.
Are You telling me something?
Eyes looking down.
Are You looking for someone?

This poem is © copyright by mark macdonald

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