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Tenth Station of the Cross by Frederick Charles Shrady, 1907 - 1990.
There’s nothing left, absolutely nothing,
Between our egos and the light of truth.
Yet the hoping goes on, and the dreaming.
Our deceptions progress little from youth
Into old age. Yet for contemplation
There is One above all, One who is good.
So what will be on my application?
What will match the spilling of blood on wood?
Here I stand stripped naked before you all.
There are no achievements, no good fortune,
No celebrity to hold me in thrall
To crowds; just good intentions, lost too soon.
I’m nothing. Gone is the time for pretence.
Against the stripping hand there’s no defence.
John Dunn.
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