Imagine

The last day of Christ.

Imagine the feel of spit
On your tired face.
You're going to die
And you feel you're out of place.

Imagine the feel of a newly-formed bruise
Formed from an angry fist.
You're going to die soon,
So you're just joining the list.

Imagine the feel of the crown of thorns--
Tiny spikes piercing your head.
They took His staff and beat Him.
"Hail, King of the Jews!" they mockingly said.

Imagine how you would feel
Hearing people yell, "Crucify Him!"
You're down to the point of tears
And the lights are going dim.

Imagine the feel of the whip,
The sting of every lash.
Blood is oozing down your back
While salty sweat seeps into each gash.

Imagine the weight of the cross
On your tired back.
After trudging through the city,
It's amazing you're still intact.

Imagine the feel of nails
Being hammered into your palm.
Pain is pulsating through your body,
Taking everything to try and remain calm.

Imagine the feel of vinegar
On your dry and cracked lips.
Your lips burn like fire
Because of that tiny sip.

Imagine the amount of love
That came from a dying man.
So much love, in fact,
That we will never understand.