A blink of the eye and I am moved.
Moved to a time and place before.
Standing on a sandy hillside, a watcher.
Behind a blackened sky I see three criminals.
Sentenced by that time to its justice.
A justice enforced by man.
But this is special, time has no parameters.
In front of the first man there file people.
In front of him that was killed by hate and time.
Innocent, yet killed beneath a weeping sky.
As they walk past they see him not.
They are looking in on themselves.
They do not look up.
A burdened heart packed by themselves,
also burdening him that died for them.
But a burden taken on without protest.
Taken on with love.
Taken on with knowledge of what lay ahead.
Every so often one will stop and look.
Pushed by the crowd but he stays still.
A tear in his eye, his heart.
For love he died.
For me he died.
A watcher remote.
However I see them still filing past in my time.
Filing past life.