Bleeding!
     drop by drop,
Arms stretched wide,
     no begging stop!

Dying!
     very last breath,
Palms turned up,
     no cheating death.

He hung
     out in our lives, 
For us to hang
     out in His death.

There is no rhyme
     in that,
But there is
     a good reason.

To be so empty
     and still so full
Like He, so 
     vulnerable.
 

Luke 23

See this poem @ His Newsman