NPM: Apotheosis

He was made man,

So that we could be made gods.

To ascend to glory

as more than mortal

The mystery of dust

becoming divine

The thought is too much,

too bright to look at directly

But stranger still

than apotheosis:

the thought that Deity

caged itself in flesh

only to be torn

and beaten, spit upon

and slain

And all along he knew

he knew!

what we would do

all in his name

How often we,

self righteous demi-gods,

would stone and scorn

the least of these

And call it holiness

Apotheosis gone wrong

Pride has turned even this

and made us into devils

dressed all in baptismal white

Love grace, seek mercy

We can still be set aright

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