I once pulled oil from my pocket,
and poured it upon the crown.
The smell of nard filled the room,
but my tears it couldn’t drown.
A year’s worth of hard labors,
provoked anger for some.
But the one I wished to honor,
said this would be told for times to come.
It was a preparation that came before,
with no knowledge of what came after.
I faded into the records of history,
even as Golgotha rose to despair and laughter.
Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog and have no artistic claim to it.