Crown of Riches
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and none heavier than his who, upon embracing the final grasp of gravity, came to rest, blood streaking from the lacerations of thorns and falling from face to flood the tomb of Adam.
From the grasp of gravity to the grave and beneath the foundations of all tombs, this, the man, the son of man, goes back again to the Earth–not naked as Job, but armed with the wealth of gems upon diadems upon gold and silver seven times refined, armed with the wounds of the thorns on his brow and the thistles that wounded men since the angels took their stations to watch the gates of paradise.
Embedded in the precious Crown of Charity–Crown of all Love that is True, these riches ransom all those captives who waited, watching, to be called to that mansion prepared for them in the promised land.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, heavy beyond the depths of the grave, the crown casting the light from the fire that makes molten even the most adamantine chains. Fire of his heart–true passion–blood streaking from the lacerations of thorns and falling from face to flood the tomb of Adam.