Pilate’s Dream
I dreamed I met a Galilean
A most amazing man
He had that look you very rarely find—
The haunting hunted kind.
I asked him
To say what had happened
How it all began
I asked again
He never said a word
As if he hadn’t heard . . .
And next the room was full
Of wild and angry men
They seemed to hate this man
They fell on him and then . . . disappeared again
Then I saw thousands of millions
Crying for this man
And then I heard them mentioning my name—
and leaving me the blame.
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