Feet graze soil still crystalline with dew
shrouded heads bow in mourning
hands hold preparations to their chest
tears echo through the morning.
Flashes of light shown around,
"Women why are you weeping."
Our Savior died, was their reply.
"Your Lord Lives" was his.
Sprinting the last few yards
towards a hole in a rock
they entered to find it
empty as was prophisied.
Turning to leave to tell
the Good News, they hesitated.
For there He was,
their Risen King...
having stormed Hell's Gates
Death's gates
the world's gates
and won.
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