The Absolute Poem by Peter Eliastam

Mid-air between earth and sky, impaled, mocked,
He bled despised, man’s One Uncommon Man,
Unprized in life and dead at thirty-three;
Fed vinegar and gall. His death began
Before the racing span of time was clocked.

And He was buried as a man of dust,
Where only things of dust fall to decay,
While heaven’s plan remained a mystery.
For three still solar days His body lay
Enclosed in stone, Love’s promise held in trust,

God’s terms exact, climactic and abrupt.
Stripped naked, where His clothing had been laid,
The Roman soldiers ran a lottery.
The Covenant was cut, our ransom paid.
There where He hung naked, emptied – bankrupt.