He gave up his post in willful submission, he had given his bit…

He did baptize, he did preach, he ran the race…

He was nobler than them all, his peers and kinsmen…

He taught the people in the synagogue, he broke bread and drank the blood… 

He was nobler than them all…

He was father, teacher and mentor, he was prophet!

In pain and ail, he wailed for souls, he served in health and disease… He was indeed nobler than mere mortals…

“I am scarred, wounded and broken in spirit… “These were the very words of the prophet when the sea raged and fear was nigh… 

He did seem as though destitute and forgotten but by the preacher stood his bride… 

Keeping her vows ” In sickness and in health , in pain and wealth…” She stooped  to conquer until the very fangs of death clawed deep into the preacher…

Love is proven in times of pain and lack, love is certain to win and vanquish all that ache the soul…

I stood and reminisced on the words of the prophet…

I cried, I screamed, I Called, I prayed, I even begged because my own was slowly going yonder…

But This prophet prophesied until death! 

We will meet again and I shall give you tales of your unwholesome departure…

Goodbye papa

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