"But he that dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose."
Anne Bronte
A kiss on the lips from Judas
Comes not from lust
Not ecstasy or joy
Not love or trust
Rather, our pain, and woe
For our flaws
We are crucified
I am made of clay
I am made of dust
A kiss so serene
You might mistake
The cause
The thorns in my side
Come not from hate
But desire
The crown of thorns upon my head
Comes not from anger
But fear
And it won’t be removed
Until I am dead
In the end
"There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills. "
Buddha
