wordsout by Godfrey Rust                                                words from the cross 4 of 7  HOME  


To be human is to deal with death,
and I have wagered all to taste the fruit 

of this desolate new Eden. To be human
is to court the risk of failure, and so I  

embrace this tree of knowledge of despair.
And to be human is to know that God  

may be illusion, and so I have made myself
human enough to doubt and disbelieve. 

What else is left for God to understand?
Faith is the gamble of a dying man. 

The condemned son cries out into the dark
guessing his father hears, yet will not come. 

What kind of love is this that keeps such silence?
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?