You make our souls tasty like rose marmalade.
You cause us to fall flat on the ground
like the shadow of a cypress still growing at its tip.
Rainwater through a mountain forest,
we run after you in different ways.
We live like the verge of tears
inside your eyes. Don't cry.
You trick some people with gold ropes.
You tie them up and leave them.
Others you pull near at dawn.
You are the one within every attraction.
All silence. You are not alone, never that.
But you must at times become distracted,
because look, you have taken the food
that you were going to give to Jesus,
you have taken that out to the stable
and put it down in front of the donkey.
