The Transformation

When, to uneasy dreams
On the third day, the Nazarene
Awoke, he found himself changed
In his tomb, into a strange
Insect. A great stone blocked the light.
He crawled beneath its weight
To await the final metamorphosis
Unto glory; but his brittle carapace
Cracked. As his guts leaked from the shell,
The noise was christened Gospel.

Rev. Frank Crow