Literature
Diatheke
In front of mortal eyes, I reluctantly drink
Receiving the cup, terrified as I think
Chancing the choke of death by the drop
Awaiting fullfillment, hoping the poison will stop
Doubting remission, atonement's provision
My forgiveness requires all that you've given
Enhancing the toxin, my sin paying dues
Without the shedding of blood there is no excuse
The ashes of heifers wont save me this time
My transgressions cant be redeemed by the dime
The Holy of Holies whispers preceeding verses
Blood mixed with water, purification by churches
The ceremonial nature practices patterns of things
Not yet revealed to scribes or their kings
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