o, my Christ
My Son, athirst
pressed tight
so up
against His
narrow Tree I see
from here
at His Feet
His Despair, their
disgust, at
what I now know
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o, my Christ
My Son, athirst
pressed tight
so up
against His
narrow Tree I see
from here
at His Feet
His Despair, their
disgust, at
what I now know
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