…then it’s a Robe
A Robe, robed by a robed role model
After he dropped from the highest of holes
And kept his whole holiness
Till he dissolved, faded into the skies
Nearly in a Robe
The Robe, in its raw mould
Not embroidered from a white thread
Not woven from a black thread
Only hand made, fashioned by an unknown
It seems the one robed in the Robe lived
And was living with the One of old
Living in the shrouded places of the clouds
Living for aeons beyond the ozone
Lo and behold
He imploded
And came among the earthling fold
That one in the Robe
That one carried loads of hope
Loads of hope you can hold
That one in the Robe
That one curries no heavy yoke
No heavy yoke for the weak folk
That one in the Robe
That one nests in his chest lots of love
Lots of love for mortal folks
Mortal folks abiding here below
The road traversed by that one in the Robe
That road groped for his innocent blood
Yet he probed, he stayed the course
That one was bold, not cold
That one in the Robe
That one braced himself for many strokes
And when an earlobe was cropped
That one did not favour an ear to drop
That one took an ear up to hold
That one in the Robe
That one visited the tombs
Unfettered the entombed
That one hushed the storm up shore
Fed the famished with bread he broke
That one stopped blood that flowed
And a woman’s womanhood restored
For babes to berth nonstop
For babes to come to that one in the Robe
For they shall…
The story of that one in the Robe
That story has been told and retold
From ancient times, but still holds
In that story we quote his name
His name, the world has known
That one in the Robe
His death was no April joke
In the tomb he did not choke
That one was not at all comatose
He was buried in the icy, gripping boughs of a tomb
From the gripping fingers of death he arose
It seemed that seamless Robe
That Robe caught the attention of the murderous rogues
Those murderous rogues subjected the Robe to a gambling episode
Choosing to scramble for the seamless cloak
